In Times of War
by Unicornglitterpants
Summary: For Draco, there's nobody like her. For Genevieve, he's all that matters. Connections made in times of great strife are often easily broken. With both sides fighting against them, can they manage to beat the odds? Can a death eater and a muggleborn witch make it through the second wizarding war unscathed? Or will their love be their undoing? DracoXOC, Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue

_I own nothing but the characters I've created. Please Review, good or bad.  
_

**Prologue**

_"Love is needing someone. Love is putting up with someone's bad qualities because they somehow complete you." _  
― _Sarah Dessen, "The Lullaby" _

Genevieve Vanessa MacDuff had never been on a train by herself. She'd never been on a train at all. And she'd certainly never traveled this far from home. She spent the first half of the ride ignoring the idle chatter of the other first years surrounding her and instead gazed in rapt attention out the window. She watched as the greenery flew by, her violet eyes swishing back and forth rapidly. Her mind whirred with endless questions. What would the school look like? It was supposed to be in a castle and most castles she had seen were very run down. And drafty, best not forget that. What exactly did magic look like? Were there really such things as the animals she'd read about in her Care of Magical Creatures textbook? Could one really fly on a broom? And if so, why did they ride a train to Hogwarts? And what about future careers? Was she really going to find a solid, well-paying job? A normal one anyway. Or were there normal ones? Did she even want a normal job? What if being a witch was as dangerous as her mother believed? Her mother had been highly against her coming to Hogwarts. She'd become practically hysterical once the reality of the situation set in. It was quite possible that encountering the goblins of Gringott's had not helped in the slightest. She'd blanched at the sight of them and clutched Genvieve by the shoulder so tightly it had almost bruised.

Even her father, who was quite lax when it came to asserting parental authority and the like, had seemed skeptical and ill at ease with the prospect of his only daughter being a witch. Her mother and father had written the school three times a week since she'd gotten her acceptance letter as they had been obsessed with finding out just how safe of a school Hogwarts really was. The tri-weekly correspondence had put her father's worries to rest and had managed to bring her mother down from hysterical to simply a "nervous wreck". Her mother had fidgeted all through her robe fitting at Madame Malkin's, twitched and even cringed while she acquired her wand at Ollivander's and scowled in passing at the owls that Genevieve had practically begged her father for. Her mother had spat a severe "no" as if that single solitary word had had a particularly sour taste to it. Genevieve had been the only one to enjoy the outing.

"I'm going to be sorted into Ravenclaw. My sister, Priscilla-she's a Hufflepuff-said that's where all the smartest students go." It took Genevieve a moment to realize the girl was talking to her and that she really had no qualms with the fact that Genevieve wasn't listening.

"What's a...Hufflepoof?"

The girl, who had strawberry blonde hair that was a bit too frizzy, a smattering of freckles along the bridge of her upturned nose and narrowed, green eyes gave her a rather pointed once over. Genevieve had never felt so judged in all her life. "_Hufflepuff_ is one of four houses in Hogwarts." She let out a great sigh as if Genevieve was indeed a large imposition. "You _must_ be a muggleborn."

At Genevieve's blank stare, she rolled her eyes. "Your parents are non-magical, am I correct?" Not waiting for Genevieve to answer, she snorted, "Or _course_ I am. I suppose you haven't been listening at all to what anyone in the compartment has been saying; which is quite rude. There are four houses in Hogwarts, First years are sorted into the houses their first night in the castle and that is to be your house for the next seven years. Each house represents certain qualities that each student housed within them posses. The houses are Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor.

"Slytherin is where the purebloods whose parents are blood purity fanatics usually end up. You won't be sorted there as you're a muggleborn. They're cunning, backstabbing, little self-serving gits who think they're smarter than they actually are. And they're all filthy rich. Most of the children from the oldest magical families have been sorted there. They may act stupid, but don't be fooled. Next to Ravenclaw, they're the cleverest, most resourceful.

"Then you have Ravenclaw. The smartest witches and wizards are sorted there. It's really the only house any student should strive to be sorted into. Who doesn't want to be the best witch or wizard in their class. That's where I'm going to be sorted. There's not a witch or wizard from Ravenclaw who didn't end up doing something noteworthy.

"And Hufflepuff. That's where the...less talented witches and wizards go. They're friendly and reliable of course, but...well they just don't posses any qualities one would find useful. Nothing but a bunch of simpletons if you ask me."

"And then there's Gryffindor. If you don't get into Ravenclaw, you better pray to Merlin you get into Gryffindor. They're the only house that even comes close to Ravenclaw when it comes to cleverness. They're loyal, brave, and honestly the most popular even though Hufflepuff house members tend to be quite social butterflies themselves."

"I should like to do my best academically," Genevieve mused allowed and the girl nodded along with her. "I'm Rosamund Beckwith. Half-blood."

"Genevieve MacDuff. Muggle-born." They shook hands. Rosalie eyed her over again. "Since your parents are muggle-borns, where did you get your school supplies? Did you go to Diagon Alley? How did you find out about it?"

"Oh yes, Headmaster Dumbledore sent along some instructions. It was quite nice of him." She frowned. "Only mother wouldn't let me get an owl or a cat. She's not very fond of animals, you see. Especially, not the owls it seemed. I'm not entirely sure what was wrong with the cats. They were quite lovely. Father and I have always wanted a dog. But the way Mum goes on about them-"

"How'd you like Gringott's? Aren't the goblins simply awful?"

"They are a bit rude, but-"

"Ugh, they act as though you're doing them personal injury every time you go in there. Nevermind you're trying to get _your_ money out of _your_ vault. Did your parents set you up with a vault yet or are they waiting until you're out of Hogwarts?"

"Well, that's the funny thing. You see I already-"

"My parents are waiting until I'm our of Hogwarts. They believe that my sister and I should be financially independent of them and-"

"Did you say you've already got one? A muggle-born already having a vault at Gringott's? That is peculiar!" Both girls whipped around to look at the boy sitting nearest the door on Rosamund's side of the compartment. He had warm brown eyes, an equally warm smile, and surprisingly well brushed hair. In fact, he was already in his dress-robes and there was not a speck on them, not a fold out of place. He seemed so pleasant; an enjoyable sort to be around. His eyes danced with curiosity as he stared at Genevieve and for a moment, he reminded her of hot chocolate. She'd always enjoyed hot chocolate. It was her favorite beverage in point of fact. He looked to be a couple of years older than them and it seemed possible he was even a fifth year.

"Yes, I found it quite odd as well. So did Mum. She seemed very bothered by it-"

"Well, then your parents are obviously _not_ muggles. Just lia-" Began Rosamund when the boy shot her a reproving look and shot yet another dazzling smile at Genevieve. "I'm Oliver Wood. I'm a fourth year. Are you nervous? I suppose never hearing about Hogwarts or magic, you would be." Everyone in the compartment stared at her in anticipation. All except for Rosamund, whose mouth was pursed in a thin line with an unreadable expression on her face. Genevieve shifted uneasily as she stared at the floor. "I suppose I'm a bit of both? I mean, I get to live in a castle. That's fun. And magic. Who doesn't want that to be real? But I'm not sure what to expect or if I'll be any good at it. And I'm worried about being sorted into the wrong house."

Oliver stared at her for a long while, looking her over in an almost studious fashion, but she didn't feel even the smallest bit unworthy the way she had when Rosamund had done so. But she did feel embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed heavily to the point that even her scalp began to tingle hotly. She wasn't used to having so much attention focused on her by so many people at once. Oliver smiled suddenly. "I bet the hat'll sort you straight into Gryffindor. You've got the look of a Gryffindor, you do."

"Is that where you were sorted?"

"That's where everyone wants to be sorted," a blonde girl with large, round-framed glasses said, "Of course, Oliver was sorted there. If you're not sorted into Gryffindor you miss out on all the fun. Well, most of it. Besides, Oliver's the best Quidditch keeper at Hogwarts. Of course he'd be sorted into Gryffindor for that alone."

"Yeah, Ravenclaw's was my second choice, but Gryffindors have the smarts and the fun. Ravenclaws are nothing but a bunch of stuffy gits who think too highly of themselves. They may be better than Slytherins but they're every bit as full of themselves," Oliver added. He frowned for a moment, "My cousin Lawrence was in Ravenclaw. He's such an arrogant berk." Genevieve felt herself flush at such language. It suddenly occurred to her that she was now at boarding school and getting away with a few foul terms was no longer simply scandalous and brave. It was now common.

As Oliver continued to talk about the differences in the houses, Genevieve began to notice how the atmosphere in the compartment changed. It seemed charged, light. It seemed all the tension had leaked away and Genevieve wondered why that was. She was beginning to feel as if she belonged.

Rosamund didn't speak the rest of the way to Hogwarts. Not until they were standing in the great hall of Hogwarts itself did she say a single word. Whatever it had been that had struck her dumb seemed to have been of little importance by then as she never once told Genevieve what it was that had affected her so. And honestly, Genevieve wouldn't have paid her any mind. She was too consumed with the magnificence of Hogwarts. It was the most gloriously wonderful place she had ever been and the notion of living there for the next seven years seemed simply a dream.

For years there would be several moments that stood out in her mind from that first night at Hogwarts. The first was of course seeing the the ceiling in the great hall and having it finally sink in that there was real and true magic in the world and that she was a part of it.

Second would be watching the other students be sorted into their respective houses, studying the occupants of each table and understanding just why it was that some houses were so well-liked and why one was so disliked.

And the third was her sorting itself. Rosamund had long been sorted into Gryffindor and Genevieve couldn't help but notice that Rosamund didn't look so broken up about not being sorted into her chosen house. But she did look quite out of place at the Gryffindor table. She seemed set apart from everyone else as if she were adrift in the sea alone.

But her conversation with the sorting hat was possibly one of the most important conversations she would ever have at Hogwarts and it was the single most memorable moment at Hogwarts to date. For even as the sorting hat bellowed out "GRYFFINDOR!" as loudly as he could, his previous words were still echoing through her mind. And, her mind was having such a difficult time trying to process just what had been said to her and just how significant the information he had imparted to her was. It didn't even seem odd to her that the most significant thing anyone could say to her would not come from her parents, nor a friend, nor a professor,-nor a being that was human at all-but from an object that should have been completely inanimate under normal circumstances.

It was her first day of potions that things seemed out of sort for Genevieve, as if she fit a bit too well into the wizarding world for a muggle-born girl. It was their first day of class and the Professor-an unpleasant looking man named Professor Severus Snape-was droning on about just what exactly she could expect from the course. He was using several different plants and what potions they were most commonly used in when her hand practically shot up on its own.

"Yes, Miss..." he trailed off, his penetrating gaze becoming even more mocking. Genevieve resisted the urge to shrink in embarrassment. "MacDuff, Professor. Pardon my forwardness, but wouldn't Acromantula venom be a much more powerful ingredient in a sleeping draught? So much though that it could be used in facilities such as St. Mungo's for serious or even critical injuries that are both exceptionally painful and extensive. Acromantula venom is a paralytic and it is also said that the victims of an Acromantula bite-especially those who have been bitten by hatchlings-experience an inability to feel pain and do not respond to painful stimuli."

The entire room fell into silence and Professor Snape rounded his desk in slow, deliberate strides that were both intimidating and a fair bit terrifying. But Genevieve barely noticed. Instead, all she could focus on was how she had known such things. She had never heard of an Acromantula, let alone been aware of the symptoms of an Acromantula bite. She blinked back to awareness when she noticed Professor Snape standing in front of her desk. Her eyes widened as he slowly bent forward, studying her. They stared at one each other in the most oppressive silence Genevieve had ever felt. "See me after class, Miss MacDuff."

This request, which was more of a command, was accompanied by a cacophony of excited whispering and she shrank down into her chair. Her housemates all tried to smile at her sympathetically, but Genevieve didn't miss the way all of Slytherin house stared down their noses at her with the most contemptuously smug smiles she had ever seen. She sat hunched in her chair for the duration of class, too petrified to speak up again, though she felt herself involuntarily tense every time Professor Snape spoke about something she desperately wanted to question him on. She was sure that this did not go unnoticed by the seemingly omniscient Professor. The minutes ticked on painstakingly slow until finally they were dismissed and Genevieve meekly approached the front, trembling.

She had promised herself she would strive to do her best at Hogwarts and prove to her parents that they weren't daft for allowing her to attend school instead of a muggle school. She wanted to prove to them that she belonged in both worlds-with them and with magic. And here she was getting in trouble on her first day. It was shameful.

She kept her mouth firmly shut and flinched visibly when Professor Snape finally turned his attention to her. "Tell me, Miss MacDuff, your parents. Who are they?"

"They're muggles, Professor," she stammered. Professor Snape stared at her for a long while, his face a perfect mask of indifference. "Then how is it that you are so well acquainted with the subject of Acromantulas?"

She hung her head and shrugged. "I dunno, Sir. I just...I just knew."

Silence. Unending silence and then. "Miss MacDuff, you show an uncanny knack for the art of Potion-making. I'm quite sure you may in fact be more advanced than your other classmates. As such, I would appreciate it if, in the next few years, your aptitude continue to impress, you come to me if you no longer feel challenged by your course material. I would hate for a gift such as yours to be squandered."

"Yes, Professor," she let out breathlessly. This had not been the discussion she had been expecting. He turned back to the parchment strewn about his desk and she rightfully assumed that she was dismissed. Just as she reached the door, Professor Snape called to her. "And, Miss MacDuff? Ten points to Gryffindor."

It was the first time Genevieve won points for her house and she was ecstatic. Beside her, Rosamund had seemed less than thrilled about their house winning point. She'd had the remnants of a pout on her face as she stared forward at their dour professor. Genevieve decided not to try and talk to her. It seemed as though her new friend was content with marinating in her own anger.

Potions fast became her favorite class. It reminded her so much of helping her mother cook at home. Whether it be cookies, stew, or whipping up a relaxation draught, it was all the same for her. She spent the entire class taking notes as if she were writing down new recipes; she couldn't wait until Professor Snape would tell them to take out their cauldrons and begin to brew a new one. If only all her classes were that enthralling. History of Magic was an absolute bore. She would not be taking that again.

Second year, half way through first term, Professor Snape asked her to remain after class. She approached his desk, only a bit worried she was in trouble. She was never in trouble in this class. She was never late, always turned in her assignments on time, and always raised her hand in class.

"How are you enjoying class so far, this year Miss MacDuff?" It was hard to tel if Professor Snape was truly interested to know her opinion or if he was just making polite small talk. She couldn't imagine such a serious individual enjoyed making small talk. He didn't seem the type. "I enjoy it very much, Sir. In fact, I was wondering if there might be any advice you might be willing to give me on what career choices I might find once out of Hogwarts. Being muggle-born, I'm afraid I don't know much about the wizarding world and I'm afraid I'll be quite lost once I leave Hogwarts for good at the end of my seventh year and I don't relish the idea of working as a mere clerk in a wizarding shop."

Professor Snape stared at her for a long moment. So long, that by the time her hand a chance to answer, someone else had entered the dungeon class room.

"Mister Malfoy, excellent timing," Professor Snape droned, his eyes shifting to the new arrival. Genevieve followed his line of sight to a first year standing beside her. He was standing a few feet to her right and he seemed to be doing his best to ignore her completely. She had seen him several times in the hallways; his platinum blond hair stood out in the crowd of black garbed students. By his cool demeanor, she was able to deduce that he was completely arrogant.

"You wanted to see me, Sir," the boy said in a calm voice. He continued to ignore her. Genevieve gripped her potions book tighter. Professor Snape nodded. "Your father and mother asked that I make sure that your grades remain at a level consistent with their expectations. While you have done well thus far, I had decided it would behoove you to improve in any way you can."

"Of course, Sir."

The potions master nodded in her direction. "This is Miss MacDuff. She is a second year. She is the best in her class in all subjects."

"A Ravenclaw," the boy called Malfoy assumed, studying her for the first time. She shook her head. "Gryffindor." His eyes narrowed. He did not look pleased.

"Mister Malfoy is a member of Slytherin house," Professor Snape said, "and his parents have taken an enthusiastic interest in his studies here at Hogwarts. I would like for you to help him increase his grade in my class, Miss MacDuff. Should he need help in any of his other courses, I would appreciate it if you would be the one to tutor him in those as well. I will be willing to any recommendations you need in your seventh year in exchange for your helping Mister Malfoy."

"certainly, Professor. I would be honored." Professor Snape nodded. "Good, I have already informed your Professors that you will be absent for your next classes so that you may work out an acceptable timetable for your tutoring sessions. Does this arrangement sound acceptable to you, Mister Malfoy."

The first year Slytherin did not seemed pleased at all. "Yes, Professor."

"Good, you are both excused to the library. Good day."

With that, Professor Snape stalked out of the class room. Genevieve turned to look at the boy and smiled in as friendly manner as she could manage. It was clear to her that the boy despised her for some unknown reason. "I'm Genevieve," she said, holding her hand out to him."

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said back, ignoring her outstretched hand. He stalked from the classroom. She let out a long-suffering sigh and followed him, skipping a couple steps to keep up with him. "So, are you a muggle-born?"

"Of course not," he exclaimed, looking disgusting. "But I suppose you are. Can't believe Snape picked you to be my tutor."

She pursed her lips. "What's wrong with being muggle-born?"

"Everything," he snapped at her. She stared down at the stone floor. "Well, I suppose then that you're a pure-blood?"

"Yes, I am. I'm from one of the most respected families in the wizarding world."

"Really? What does your father do for a living," she asked, interestedly, "does he work for the ministry? My father works for a law firm. It's not exactly a thrilling occupation, but some times he works on the most bizarre cases-"

"Don't you ever shut up," he snapped again, "it's none of your business what my family does. All you need to know is that they're better than yours."

She stumbled behind him, blinking in disappointment. "Oh." Draco watched her, eyes narrowed before he asked, "What does your mother do?"

"Oh, she was a photojournalist. She stopped once she had me though. Didn't want to travel so much anymore, I guess. What about your mother? What does she do?"

"She shops," he replied absently. Genevieve snorted out a laugh. Draco shot her a look that said he didn't know whether to be offended on his mother's behalf or that he should laugh along with her. "How much money does your family have?"

She shrugged. "Enough that my mother doesn't need to work. She take care of all the household work and manages the finance. I know before I went to school, we had a maid who came by once a day to clean, so I suppose we're doing quite well."

"Where are you from?"

"Surrey. Are you an only child?"

"Yes."

"Me, too!"

"How fascinating and coincidental. We shall be friends forever," he deadpanned. She let out another snort of laughter and was sure that she saw the corners of Draco's mouth turn up just the barest bit.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Of Love, Loss, and Sudden Noteriety**

_"I always wanted to be someone, but I should have been more specific."_  
_-Lily Tomlin_

Genevieve was still not well known by third year and that suited her just fine really. Harry Potter, the second year, the "boy who lived" was known by everyone in the wizarding world and that seemed absolutely exhausting. The only people who knew her well enough was Rosamund. Some of the students she tutored in the library also seemed to like her well enough.

Genevieve watched absentmindedly as the second year she was currently tutoring, Draco Malfoy, scowled down at the parchment before him. She couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face. The kid was so sweet and adorable when they were alone. She was so glad Professor Snape had arranged for her to tutor him. If he hadn't, she never would have known what a nice boy he could be. All she knew of him was how much he and Harry Potter despised one another and how he seemed to have quite a problem with muggle-borns, yet he'd never called her a "mudblood". No once. In fact, he seemed quite fascinated with by her non-magical upbringing. He was always asking her questions.

"Genevieve, you marked it here that I have the ingredients wrong but it clearly says on page ninety-one that we use five crushed mandrake roots instead of the six that you marked down," he sighed, holding up the essay to point at the offending sentence she had marked through before gesturing to the book. Genevieve didn't even bother to turn her violet eyes from the essay and continued to smile lazily. "Trust me, it's six."

"How do you know," Draco asked after a long bout of dazed staring. Her smile widened. "I've had potions for the past two years. I've never once gotten any grade lower than an 'O' on a single essay or potion I've brewed. When have I ever steered you wrong?"

Draco let out a sigh and gave her an apologetic grin, "Right, G-gen, I'm sorry. I always get an 'O' because of you. I don't know what I'll do once you're gone my Seventh year."

She shrugged, shooting him a mischievous grin. "You could always owl me."

He shook his head and his grin faltered drastically. "I don't really think my Mum or Dad would be okay with me owling a muggle-born."

"Right." They frowned at each other for awhile. As Draco picked at the library table and Genevieve tried to find the right words. "Draco," she said slowly, turning over the words in her head before letting them out, "you're a good person. And a good friend. I wish...I wish we could be friends longer than our years in Hogwarts."

The blond boy refused to look at her, but nodded. "I like you, Gen. You're...different. You're different from everyone. You don't-I don't know how to describe it. You're just different."

Genvieve felt as if she were almost glowing. "I think that is quite possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Draco."

He smiled shyly and then cleared his throat. "We better get going. It's almost dinner."

"Oh, you're right! I want to drop my things off in my dorm, too!" They both gathered their things quickly. Draco managed to get his books together more quickly and asked over his shoulder as he left, "So, I'll see you tomorrow after lunch to finish my essay?"

"Of course, Draco, have a lovely night," she assured him. His chest puffed out and he strode away. "Goodnight, Genevieve. Enjoy your evening."

Genevieve heaved her book bag over her shoulder and started out of the library, giving Madam Pince a smile in passing. The corridors were empty of fellow students and Genevieve reveled in the silence. Even with all the students being terrified about the petrifications of fellow students, she wasn't afraid. She was a bit sad over Filch's cat though. That seemed a bit much for whoever was responsible. Genevieve was more concerned with whether her parents would make her leave Hogwarts because of it. Her mother still hadn't accepted her daughter's enthusiasm for magic. In fact, at times, she seemed threatened by it. Her father seemed curious, but wary. They had never really gotten used to having an owl deliver their daughter's mail.

The Gryffindor common room was empty, indicating that dinner was already underway and Genevieve hurried up to her room and tossed her book bag on her bed, patting Rosamund's cat, Casper, as she went. She hurriedly changed out of her robes and into more comfortable attire then darted back out of the room, flying down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

She ran most of the way to the great hall; if you took too long, all the best dishes were usually gone. She skidded to a halt in the doorway and slowed her pace, surveying the room with mild interest. Harry Potter was of course sitting with his two best mates, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Draco was sitting with his two absolutely repugnant friends, Crabbe and Goyle, over at the Slytherin table. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnett, and Angelina Johnson were sitting with the bulk of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Rosamund was sitting as close to the Quidditch team as possible and if she was honest with herself, she had no desire to sit close enough to hear nothing but Quidditch play after Quidditch play which she barely understood. She seated herself not far from Harry, Hermione, and Ron. She'd come to realize that the trio often had very odd yet enthralling conversations that made no sense, but usually revolved around someone trying to harm the students of Hogwarts. They reminded her of soap operas. She sat down near enough to eavesdrop, yet far enough away to remain inconspicuous.

Of late, she'd noticed a growing animosity between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, which she found rather disconcerting as both boys were quite lovely. However, if she had to choose, she would always choose Draco. The boy was just so nice. She'd never understand why he and Harry found each other so vile.

Right now, Harry, Hermione and Ron were absolutely convinced that Hagrid had something to do with it all. Genevieve resisted the urge to snort into her roast beef. Perhaps it was their age that prompted them to jump to such rash conclusions, but she was only a year older and even she felt that they were acting like a set of complete dolts. Hagrid wouldn't hurt a fruit fly let alone a student.

"Um, Genevieve?" She perked up at the sound of her name and looked up to see all three second years staring at her intently. Harry adjusted his glasses and swallowed. Hermione glanced at him in encouragement, but Ron looked just as uncomfortable as Harry. She felt her brow furrow in confusion.

"Why is Malfoy staring at you?" Genevieve blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected that. She turned her gaze to the Slytherin table and, found that Draco's silvery eyes were indeed focused on her quite intently. He blinked in shock and flushed with embarrassment at being caught, hurriedly turning his gaze to Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to him, batting her eyelashes in a way that only a second year could believe was even remotely seductive. Draco stared at her as if she were unhinged and Genevieve stifled a laugh as she turned away. "I honestly have no idea."

"Maybe it's Malfoy and not Hagrid," Ron mumbled, causing Hermione to elbow him roughly. The redhead glared at her as he rubbed the surely bruising area. Genevieve rolled her eyes and flipped open her potions book. "I don't know what you three are thinking, but I can say for certain that neither Hagrid nor Draco Malfoy are intent on harming anyone."

"And how would you know that," Ron asked, in a tone that was only a bit accusatory. She raised an eyebrow of him. "In what way would one paralyze a witch or wizard without using a petrifying spell? It's obviously not a spell since the petrification is permanent. They were obviously not bitten by anything or Madame Pomfrey would have found an mark and they would also be exhibiting other symptoms. Thirdly, Hagrid's specialty is magical creatures and only magical creatures. While he is an excellent groundskeeper, he's nowhere near being an authority on potions, spells, or any other subject that might aid him in such a dark task. And fourth, Draco Malfoy is a second year. Do any of you know a way to petrify someone?"

The three stared at her openly and she shook her head in exasperation. "I didn't think so."

"We're second years," Ron exclaimed defensively. Genevieve raised a condescending eyebrow at him. "Fine then. Do you know of any way to permanently paralyze someone?"

Ron shook his head, giving her a sheepish look. Genevieve sighed. "You're going about this all wrong. You're looking for suspects before you've collected all the evidence. You're not even concerned with determining a motive, which is something you should be doing first and foremost." She noticed how Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "What would either Hagrid or Malfoy gain from petrifying students?"

"Malfoy hates muggle-borns," Harry said and Genevieve felt herself sigh. "Yes, but wouldn't he want to harm them instead or petrify them? What does he stand to gain from this?" When nobody spoke, she continued, "There is nothing connecting Hagrid to this. You're grasping at straws."

The three shifted uneasily and she narrowed her violet eyes. "You're withholding information, aren't you?" They sulked guiltily and she groaned. "Honestly, you three. Do you really think Dumbledore wouldn't have already considered each and every professor and employee of Hogwarts carefully. Dumbledore trusts Hagrid. You three should, too."

Genevieve turned her attention away from them and back to her textbook, leaving them to their hushed whispering. Suddenly, their conversation was far less interesting than it had been mere minutes ago. As far as she was concerned, their behavior was far more suspicious than that of any other single person at Hogwarts and she decided she wanted no part in it.

Once she was finished eating she looked over at Rosamund, who was busy batting her eyelashes at Oliver Wood in a way that Genevieve found she was not at all comfortable with. She looked far less ridiculous than Pansy, but still, it was embarrassing the display she was putting on. Oliver didn't seem to notice. He was too busy glaring at Angelina Johnson and the two seemed to be arguing heatedly. She shook her head. Perhaps today was just one of those days where everyone was a bit too agitated for their own good.

She shut her book and stood letting out a small sigh. "Goodnight," she breathed to no one in particular before she sauntered out of the great hall. It occurred to her as she traipsed down the corridors towards the Gryffindor dormitories that she much preferred textbooks, homework, and studying to the company of other students. She could only take social interaction in small doses. It made her wonder if muggle schools were less dramatic than witchcraft and wizardry schools. There seemed to be no end to it at Hogwarts. There was always some new and juicy bit of gossip on who was snogging who, who broke with who and she found it utterly exhausting to keep up with.

She reached the moving staircases and continued on her analysis of her social life, scowling. It was getting so that the only two people she could stomach on a daily basis was Rosamund and Draco. Draco she tolerated better than Rosamund at times even and Rosamund was supposed to be her closest friend. They both could get so snippy, but sometimes, Rosamund was just unbearable.

Once she reached her dormitory, she changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed. Casper roused from his place on Rosamund's bed and stretched lazily before stalking up to her bed and jumping up, settling beside her. Casper preferred to sleep in her bed as opposed to his owner's. She suspected it had to do with Rosamund's tendency to kick and thrash in her sleep. She waved her wand to draw the curtains surrounding her bed and scratched behind the drowsy feline's ears before falling back against her pillow with a yawn. She was asleep before she knew it.

"You know, Oliver Wood is quite brilliant. The Quidditch plays he comes up with are phenomenal," Rosamund bragged as she flipped her long hair over shoulder and picked up another scone. Genevieve just nodded. It had become exceedingly obvious that Rosamund had developed quite a crush on the Quidditch captain and was quite convinced that she and Oliver were simply meant to be, which Genevieve found absurd considering the girl knew absolutely next to nothing about Quidditch. What on earth could they possibly talk about? Any time she'd been around Oliver Wood, nine times out of ten, the conversation was about Quidditch. She didn't see that changing just because the boy decided to start snogging some girl.

"He's going to play for Puddlemere United, you know," Rosamund confided, practically preening. "He'll be their star keeper."

Another well placed nod and Rosamund continued. "Do you know how much professional Quidditch players make? Of course you don't. I keep forgetting you're a muggle-born. They make quite a fortune, I can tell you. And the most well known are always featured in Witch Weekly. I'm sure Oliver will be in there quite often. He's such a charming, good-looking bloke. Personally, I think he's the best looking bloke in school."

"Isn't he a bit old for you," Genevieve ventured as she slathered some butter on a piece of toast. Rosamund scowled at her. "Genevieve, I'm much more mature than most other third years." Genevieve couldn't help the disbelieving look that overtook her face. Just last week, her blonde friend had refused to step foot out of their dormitory because the Weasley Twins had fed her some candy that made pustules form all over her milky white skin. She'd even refused to be escorted to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had been forced to come to their dormitory to treat her. Rosamund had wailed and cried all day, sobbing about how she would never be able to face the whole of Hogwarts again. It had been quite the show. "Right."

"If you ever bothered to pull your head out of a book, you would notice," her friend chastised in a way that was less than friendly. Genevieve simply smiled and finished her breakfast before setting off for her first class of the day, Charms. It was best if you just ignored Rosamund's passive aggressive insults. She tended to take extreme offense if you stuck up for yourself.

Charms was always uneventful. She spent most of the class going over her notes and lazily performing whatever task Professor Flitwick set for her and her fellow students, barely even looking up. Genevieve had already begun practicing nonverbal spell work in her free time. It only seemed logical that "the sooner the better" applied in these situations. While she hadn't had as much success as she had expected, she'd managed to perfect quite a few first year spells non-verbally and that was better than perfecting none.

After Charms came transfiguration, which was the only class in which she felt truly challenged. She'd been toying with the idea of becoming an animagus for months, though she didn't relish the idea of having to obtain a license. She didn't really relish the idea of becoming one illegally either, but it was a tempting idea. It bothered her just how closely the ministry of magic seemed to monitor people. Genevieve thought it might be best to keep a low profile.

They were busy learning to transfigure small mammals into common everyday objects. Class was a madhouse, but she managed to keep from getting too distracted by all the half-formed rabbits racing around the room. They'd been asked to transfigure their rabbits into a daisy. Most had ended up with either a multicolored daisy for a tail or a collar of petals around their necks, but there were a couple who had leaves for ears. The irony of practicing magic on rabbits was not lost on Genevieve. It took a lot of effort not to spend the entire time laughing.

Genevieve had promised to meet Draco to help him finish his essay the next day. She and Draco always met in the back of the library where no students ever dared to venture. It was much too dark and much too dusty. It scared most of the first and second years and Madam Pince kept a close eye on this section for fear of finding older students in "compromising" positions. Draco had been more than a tad bit apprehensive during their first session. So much so that, he'd neglected to maintain his aggressive and puritanical facade. He'd only managed to make a handful of snide remarks and it was clear they hadn't been quite as witty as one would expect.

Draco was already at their usual table. She threw her book bag down and huffed. "Sorry, I had to help Professor Sprout re-pot a particularly feisty young mandrake that a first year managed to knock over."

Both of Draco's eyebrows raised. "They didn't die did they? I heard they can kill you."

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't mature enough yet. I think the poor boy did faint though."

He rolled his eyes. "First years." He handed over his essay and she was quite impressed to see that another foot and a half had been added on. She slowly scanned over it, nodding every once in a while to show that yes, Draco had done well. She slowly handed it back. "I don't know why you needed me. It's an excellent essay."

"Yes, but will it earn me and 'O'?"

She nodded. "Of course it will. Your essays have always been one of your strongest points. Do you need help with anything else?"

Draco shook his head and then looked as if he wanted to ask something. She waited patiently for him to say something.

"Why are you friends with Beckwith," Draco finally managed, "I'm mean, I know you're housemates, but she's a dreadful sort."

She raised an eyebrow, willing him to continue and he shifted around in his seat and leaned over the table toward her. She leaned into him, sensing that whatever he was about to say, he didn't want overheard. "Beckwith's family runs in the same circles as mine. Her family's not as old as mine, but it's a very powerful family. Her parents nearly had a Hippogriff when her older sister was sorted into Hufflepuff. But that's nothing compared to-" his gaze darted around the room before he lowered his voice even further. "Her mother is a squib and her father has a sister who's only a half-blood. An affair with a muggle her grandfather met in London while there on official ministry business."

Genevieve was aware that her mouth was hanging agape, but it couldn't be helped. Knowing Rosamund, if anything Draco had just told her was to become common knowledge, she would be devastated. "Oh, she'd go absolutely mental if anyone found out any of this."

Draco nodded. "Haven't you ever wondered why none of the Slytherins want anything to do with her? Being pureblood trumps being in Gryffindor. But nobody in our house wants her around. And now she's so hung up on Wood. Merlin, she's so obvious. Even a half-blood git like Wood knows better than to mess with a stuck up bird like her."

"So that's why she's so..."

"Look, I don't know much about muggleborns," Draco said finally, "but I do know that Rosamund hates them. She's a closet pureblood fanatic. It's the way she was brought up. It's the way all of us are brought up." He swallowed thickly and Genevieve realized how hard it was for him to say what he was saying. "All our families have a lot of money and a lot of power and this sort of...hatred that we have for muggle-borns is centuries upon centuries old. It's something that can never quite be wiped out."

"Has anybody ever, broken away from tradition?"

The blond boy looked uneasy, unsure of whether he wanted to speak. "There's only ever been one person I can think of to break away from Slytherin and their family, but I don't think it was done out of some supposed noble intention of theirs. He turned out to be a follower of You-Know-Who. He's been in Azkaban for over a decade now."

"Do you really think You-Know-Who is gone," she asked, "do you really think someone so dark and powerful could really be killed by a child?"

"Dad and Mum say he'll return," Draco admitted, "they say once he's back, no muggle, no half-blood, no muggle-born, or blood-traitor will be safe."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Hogsmeade**

_"The truth is more of a stranger than fiction."_  
_-Mark Twain (1835-1910)_

It was nearing time for the first Hogsmeade weekend and Rosamund had successfully bullied Genevieve in accompanying her so that she could essentially stalk Oliver. Ever since she had spoken to Draco about Rosamund's family secrets, she had been thinking about her bank vault. She'd never opened it-not that her mother or father had ever given her the option to. She had the key, but her parents had both made it their mission to follow her into Gringott's every time they went to Diagon Alley to pick up her Hogwarts supplies.

She'd been told muggle-borns never had their own vaults unless they opened them themselves. How did she have one? Had someone opened it for her? What was in there? Was it a trap? She'd searched the library for more information on Gringott's and found very little she didn't already know. Her next step in investigating Gringott's was to see what she could find at Tomes and Scrolls, the only bookshop in Hogsmeade. And if that didn't work, she supposed she could always ask Dumbledore or even McGonagall.

However, she wasn't sure she felt comfortable inviting them to muck about in her business. She suspected that's what the outcome would be. She needed someone who would answer her questions and leave it at that. It wasn't until her next potions lesson that the idea struck her. She waited for all the other students to filter out of the classroom. Once the room was empty save for herself and Professor Snape, she gathered what courage she had in her and slowly approached him.

"Professor," she ventured cautiously, "I wondered if I might have a word with you."

Professor Snape turned to her with his usual annoyed expression. "Yes, Miss MacDuff?"

She felt herself begin to fidget under his cool gaze. "Well, it's somewhat personal and I didn't quite feel comfortable with the thought of going to the headmaster or Professor McGonagall."

"A personal matter," he asked, his gaze cooling further, "and what makes you think I will be able to help"What makes you think I'm even interested in helping you."

"Please, Professor," she pleaded finally, "I promise, I won't involve too many details, but I have to know! Is it possible for a muggle-born witch or wizard to have a Gringott's vault opened for them before having ever been introduced to the wizarding world?"

Professor Snape froze for barely a split second before studying her in a most penetrating way. "Am I to assume that you have a vault at Gringott's?"

She nodded. "I've never been in it. My parents won't allow it, but when we first went to Gringott's in order to convert some muggle money into gold, there was a key there. The goblins had it. They said they'd been instructed to give it to me once I came. They said they had had it for quite some time."

He was silent for a very long time before he responded. "Never in all my years have I heard of such a thing, Miss MacDuff. Either one of your parents is indeed a witch or wizard or the goblins of Gringott's have made a mistake." He leaned toward her, his expression still severe, "and the goblins of Gringott's do not make mistakes."

He turned his back to her and began to collect the vials of Draught of Living Death left to him by his students and Genevieve assumed that this was his way of dismissing her until-"Miss MacDuff, have you by any chance mentioned this to anyone else?"

"No, Professor, not since first year and they never brought it up with me, so I don't think they remember."

"Good. Do not mention it to anyone else," he instructed, "keep your key well hidden and do what you can to ensure that the existence of your vault remains hidden. Understand?"

"Professor-" He turned back to face her. "Do you understand, Miss MacDuff?"

She nodded and he turned away once more. Genevieve left the classroom with more questions than she had had before. It was obvious that Professor Snape either knew something she didn't, or, he had an inkling about why she would have a vault. It was clear to her that she was indeed going to have to venture into Hogsmeade.  
Genevieve had been ignoring quite a bit about her past since first year-a past she didn't even know she had. It was clear that now, it was time to begin facing it head on and she was sure that for now, she would face it on her own. It was clear to her that Rosamund was not one she should confide in on this matter and Professor Snape's adamant stance on the matter seemed to solidify her opinion even further.

The day to journey to Hogsmeade came quickly and she was surprised to find she was actually quite nervous. The night before, she took inventory of all her school supplies and made a list of what she would need. She needed quite a bit more ink, a few new quills, quite a bit more parchment, and she was sure it wasn't too early at all to start on her Christmas shopping.

Genevieve made sure to bring with her as much money as she would need and set off with Rosamund, who was busy numbering off all the ways in which she and Oliver a perfect match for one another. The journey to Hogsmeade was very peaceful and the crispness in the air was refreshing. She found herself enjoying the outing much more than expected and decided that after visiting Tomes and Scrolls she would browse through all the shops in the village.

She managed to find several books centered on the goblins themselves, but they only seemed to mention Gringott's in passing. She replaced the books in their rightful places and trudged out of the store towards Scrivenshaft's to finish buying her school supplies. Once she was finished she headed for Honeyduke's where she stocked up on Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, and a fair bit of peppermint icicles. Then she was off to Gladrags Wizardwear for a bit of browsing. Some of the clothes they had were downright awful. A couple hours later and she was ready to head back to the castle; Rosamund had wandered outside in search of Oliver quite some time ago and she didn't think she'd be seeing her any time soon. She pushed open the door to the shop and there was a loud "bang" and then a dull thud as the door shook and snow flew up into the air. Genevieve looked down and was horrified to find Oliver Wood laid out on the ground clutching his nose. He seemed to be in too much shock to move or do much of anything. "Oh, Merlin's Beard, Oliver, I am so sorry," she cried, dropping her bags and kneeling beside him, her face contorted in worry. "I should have been paying attention."

She began to rummage around in her bag before producing a box of tissue, too busy in her panicking to notice that Rosamund was standing outside the shop, staring at the pair in horror. Oliver managed to give her a curious look though it was rather pain filled. "Undetectable extension charm," she explained. "Would you like me to look at it? Or maybe I should find a teacher and have them take you to Madam Pomfrey? I've never caused anyone personal injury before."

"Well, you're rather good at it," he groaned, pulling his hand away to reveal a bit of blood. She grasped his chin in her hand and studied his face intently. "It's not broken, just bloodied."

But Oliver didn't seem to be listening. She frowned at him. "I really am sorry. I've had a bit on my mind recently and I guess it's been affecting the way I pay attention to my surroundings. I'm usually so much more aware." She stood up and offered him a hand. When, he continued to stare a bit longer she raised an eyebrow and he finally took her hand. He dusted snow off of himself and then stared at her a bit more. Genevieve was beginning to feel nervous with the way he was looking at her and she ran a hand through her hair to make sure there wasn't anything in it. Her face began to heat up. "Are-are you sure you don't need me to get a teacher? You're acting odd."

"I'm fine," he said quickly, clearing his throat.

"Good," she said slowly, gathering up her shopping bags, "Well, bye, Wood."

When he didn't respond, she turned and sauntered away, her face still burning in embarrassment. She'd physically assaulted Oliver Wood with a door. She'd bloodied the nose of the boy her best friend was in love with. Perfect.

All she could think to do now, would be to get to her dormitory and wrap the presents she had managed to buy. A large collection of silken She'd decided to buy her mother a scarf with the Gryffindor colors and a book on Quidditch for her father. He liked sports. It would be the first year she hadn't bought them purely muggle gifts for Christmas. Hopefully, these little tokens would help them adjust.

Just then she noticed Rosamund, who was frozen in place, looking as white as a sheet, her lips thin with rage. "You sodding cow," she seethed, her voice eerily calm. "You-you-I can't believe you did that!"

Genevieve felt all the color drain from her face as she shook her head frantically. "I didn't mean to, Rosamund! I didn't see him-"

"Because you're always too busy thinking about yourself," she spat. She was shaking uncontrollably now. Genevieve didn't think she had ever seen her friend look quite so outraged before. "Why can't you be normal? Why do you always have to say and do the most stupid things possible?!"

She was at a loss. Never had Rosamund spoken to her in such a way. Without another word, Rosamund stalked off toward The Three Brommsticks, effectively abandoning Genevieve. It stung deeply. She fought back tears as she resumed her shopping. She still needed to buy Draco and Rosamund presents.

She kicked a bunch of snow around as she walked, ignoring the tears burning her eyes that she refused to shed. Genevieve hated snow. Sure, it was pretty to look at when it first fell and it was pure, pristine, and white. But then it began to melt, and it turned to slush and it became muddy. And mud was not fun. Mud was dirty and sometimes it stained your clothes. Really, Genevieve enjoyed cleanliness and organization. It made it easier to find things and to manage one's possessions.

She shook herself out of her unpleasant thoughts and focused on the task at hand. What did she know about Draco? He was a pureblood, he hated Harry Potter, and...that was it. Hadn't he mentioned he was the Slytherin seeker this year?

It seemed a trip to Splintwitch's was in order. Hopefully, she still had enough galleons on her to buy him something worthwhile. When she reached the door and entered the shop, it struck her that she knew absolutely nothing about Quidditch. Browsing seemed to be her only option. Everything having to do directly with Quidditch, such as gear, broom cleaning kits, and the like seemed as though they were things Draco would already own.

She stared forlornly at a pair of dragonhide gloves. "I am a horrible friend," she muttered sadly. "How can I have been tutoring him for two bloody years and not know a thing about him?" She groaned inwardly. Maybe she could make him something? That seemed to be a good idea. She could knit him something. Like a new scarf or gloves. Or even a set. She would have to write home to her mother and ask her to find the perfect yarn. She let out a breath of relief at having finally decided on what to do, she nodded to herself decidedly and turned to leave only to find her path blocked by Oliver Wood, who was again staring at her in the same unnerving manner.

Genevieve looked around in a panic, hoping to find a quick escape, but the shop isles were choked with students. There was no way out. "Wood," she stammered out, wringing her hands together.

"I didn't know you were interested in Quidditch," he said and it sounded almost as if his voice wavered the tiniest bit. Genevieve bit her lip and kept her gaze firmly on the ground. "Not really. I don't know much about it. Just browsing in hopes of finding a suitable Christmas gift for a friend."

He nodded and stared at the floor as well. "You don't spend much time with anyone besides Rosamund."

She shrugged. She really didn't want to talk about her friend at that moment. Just thinking about her best friend made her want to cry, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll be going back to the castle now."

"Wait, Genevieve," he called after her and she ignored him.

She stomped angrily the entire way to the castle ignoring the surprised look of the students she passed. The further she stomped, the more upset she became. Her first Hogsmeade visit was an absolute disaster.

She decided it was time to go back to her dormitory and begin to wrap all the presents and owl her mother. As she wrapped each present, she reflected critically on her two and a half years at Hogwarts and came to a rather startling conclusion: she, Genevieve Vanessa MacDuff was a very one-dimensional individual. She had no hobbies or interests. She had no real friends except for Rosamund and Draco-and she only really tutored Draco. The only thing she did besides go to class was tutor. She rarely had to study-so what exactly was she spending her time doing?

It was time to branch out. She'd spent all her time with Rosamund, letting Rosamund call all the shots and now she had no idea who she was as a person. It was time everyone found out who the real Genevieve MacDuff was, including Genevieve MacDuff. She was going to go to every Quidditch match, every Hogsmeade weekend, attend every Gryffindor common room party, sneak out late at least once.

"You've already done your Christmas shopping," asked an incredulous voice. Genevieve looked up to find Angelina Johnson standing in the middle of their dormitory looking at her. She nodded. "I didn't have that many people to buy for."

Angelina studied her for a moment. "How come you never talk to any of us except for Beckwith?"

Genevieve shrugged. "I don't know, really. It's a bit stupid of me. I don't mean to be so antisocial, I just-" she frowned as she tried to find the right words, "I don't really get on with most people. I'm more into studying and doing school work than talking about who's dating who, who's fighting with who, and so on. It all seems so pointless."

Angelina nodded in understanding as she smiled. "It does get a bit much for me, too. But Beckwith is one of the worst when it comes to that sort of thing. How do you stand it?"

"Honestly," Genevieve asked sheepishly, feeling herself blush, "I sort of just tune her out most days. I'd go mad if I didn't." The two giggled. Angelina bit her lip. "Why don't you come sit with us at lunch? I promise we don't always talk about Quidditch or boys."

"I'd like that," Genevieve nodded. Angelina grinned, her brown eyes sparkling. "Brilliant. I'll see you later then?"

Genevieve nodded again and smiled. It seemed as her decision to branch out was going to work out splendidly. She packed her wrapped presents in her trunk and locked it, then wrote to her mother, which was a harder task than expected.

Her mother never wanted to hear specifics about life at Hogwarts as much of it had to do with magic and she was quite against magic. Most of their correspondences consisted of reassuring her mother that she was indeed staying out of trouble and keeping her grades up. She hadn't even mentioned she tutored for fear of having to bring up what subjects she tutored her fellow classmates in. And she doubted telling her mother she was currently fighting with her best and only friend would bring comfort to her. Instead, she mentioned how she had gotten most of her Christmas shopping done, asked her mother to find her some suitable yarn with which to knit, and then went on to mention having made friends with one of her housemates and how she hoped it would enlarge her friend circle, even if it was by only one.

Once finished, she went down for lunch, plopping down next to Angelina unceremoniously. Everyone around Angelina stopped what they were doing to look at her in various states of surprise and confusion. Angelina didn't even bother to look up from her fish and chips. "Took you long enough, MacDuff."

"Sorry, had to write my mother and she's not the easiest person to write to," Genevieve said as she too chose a plate of fish and chips, "think I'd rather write to a death eater than her, honestly."

Angelina chuckled. "Suppose it's about like writing to my Dad. He's always on about how shifty boys are and how they only want one thing."

"My mother could care less about boys at this point. Since I have the social aptitude of a sea cucumber and the grace of a drunken goose, I think she's realized that traffic collisions are more worrisome than some boy ever sniffing about."

The brunette across from Angelina nearly spit out her pumpkin juice. Angelina grinned between the two. "Alicia Spinnet, this is Genevieve MacDuff-"

"I know who she is dimwit," Alicia grumbled, "we're in the same house." She focused a penetrating gaze on Genevieve. "You're not a repulsive cow like Beckwith, are you?"

She opened her mouth to reply when the brunette sitting on the other side of her cut in, sounding very offended on her behalf. "Of course she isn't! Merlin, Alicia, have some manners!"

"Oh, cram it, Bell," Alicia growled as she took a rather violent bite of a bright red apple, "you know I can't stand that slag and I was just making sure she isn't going to be another slag-"

"Way to make friends as usual, Spinnet. Insult new people mercilessly before you get to know them," Angelina deadpanned. Alicia sent her a sour look before turning to Genevieve. "Look, I hate Beckwith. She's loud, arrogant, absolutely clueless about Quidditch, and she doesn't a flying horseshit about anyone but herself. Not to mention I'm tired of listening to her prattle on about how bloody brilliant Oliver is. My God, she makes me sick."

The brunette beside her let out a sigh. "I'm Katie. I think we have potions, charms, transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts together. Not to mention we share a dorm room."

"Yes," Genevieve nodded, "DADA isn't worth much with Lockhart as a professor, though."

"Yeah, I'd totally blow that class off if it didn't mean I be suspended from Quidditch."

And from there, Katie didn't stop talking and Genevieve didn't mind in the least. She could already tell she and Katie were going to be good friends.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Unraveling Pt.1  
**

_"In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends."_  
_- John Churton Collins_

Genevieve closed her potions textbook and gave Draco a wan smile. "I suppose this is our last study session until next year."

Draco nodded, not really looking at her. "I'm going to miss talking to you," he mumbled, "I can't talk to my other friends the way I talk to you."

She nodded once, staring off at a shelf of books not far away. "It's only one summer, Draco, and then we'll be back and I can go back to tutoring you."

"I think I'll write you," he blurted suddenly, his cheeks a bit redder than usual, "I don't think Mother or Father would mind as much as I've let on and they don't need to know you're muggle-born anyway. You could be in Ravenclaw for all they know."

She could feel herself beaming. "Oh, that would be smashing, Draco."

Both of them feeling much better, packed up quickly and went their separate ways. Genevieve couldn't deny that there was a bit more bounce in her step. Aside from Katie Bell, Draco had become her very best friend-even if they didn't associate with one another outside of tutoring sessions. Their tutoring sessions had grown longer over the course of the year as instead of packing up and leaving right away, hey tended to stay until well after curfew in order to talk about other things.

She had already made quite a few plans with Katie Bell and Leanne Swit, a Hufflepuff second year, but she was really looking forward to her first correspondence with Draco.

It came at the tail end of June and was much less enthralling than she had expected, but Draco had been sure to tell her everything he had been up to thus far. That included all the dinner parties and balls he hated so much.

_"They're so dull, Gen, there's never anyone my age, all they ever want to talk about is how many galleons they made this year, and they keep asking me if I've decided on any proper pureblood girls to marry. I'm going mad, I am. Mother actually made a list of girls from Slytherin and Ravenclaw for me. So far, she has her heart set on Millicent Bullstrode. Millicent Bullstrode! Thank Merlin Beckwith's not on that list. I'd rather live out the rest of my days in Azkaban than listen to that chit go on an on about how much better she is than anybody. How exactly did she get into Gryffindor? Is there a way to cheat when being sorted?_

_"Anyway, speaking of the list, but I hope you don't mind that I sort of fibbed to mother and told her that I was writing you and that I was sort of interested in you. I know it's horrible of me, but I'm just so tired of hearing about how wonderful these girls are. I go to school with them. I know what they're like and they're all ghastly. Why would I ever consider marrying one of them? I'm quite sure pureblood girls get dimmer with each generation._

_"Sorry, yes, so I've told mother that you and I may soon be involved just to throw her off track. She's insistent on meeting you, but I've told her that I would appreciate it if they waited until the two of us decided whether or not we would like to pursue a relationship._

_"Long story short, is summer over yet?"_

Genevieve had been quick to reply:

_"Bloody hell, Draco, are all pureblood families that fanatical about marriage? It's as if you're living in the Victorian Era. I'd ask if your mother has read "Pride and Prejudice" one too many times, but seeing as that's a muggle book, I highly doubt it. And Millicent Bullstrode is a gargantuan toad. Really, I'm beginning to question your mother's taste. At least she had the good decency to keep Rosamund off the list. I'd think her a bit touched in the head if she were on there. I feel wretched speaking of Rosmund in such a way, but...well, Draco. I haven't heard from her at all. I've heard from Katie and Leanne-even Alicia Spinnet-but not the girl who's supposedly my best friend?_

_"I'd love to go to at least one ball in my life. I may be on the bookish side, but even I can appreciate a beautiful ball gown. I'd have to learn to waltz first, but it would be worth your mother whatever you like, Draco, I don't mind. Hopefully, one day, you can tell her the truth about me and we can meet. I want badly to meet your mother some day._

_"My mother found my notes for DADA and nearly lost it. She's convinced I'm doing learning evil things at Hogwarts and that we're all plotting to take over the world. She's threatened to pull me from Hogwartsand bar me from seeing any of my friends. Luckily, father calmed her down and she took it back, but I was fit to be tied when I found out. Seems she's been going through my trunk whenever I'm not home._

_"I know the muggle world and the wizarding world are two completely different places, but it hurts that she can't accept me for who and what I am. I'm a witch. I'm...well I don't quite know who I am yet. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s aren't that far off and maybe I should start thinking of where I belong. Have you thought about it? I'm worried I won't fit in anywhere._

_"Long story short, I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts."_

And so it went for the remainder of the summer and their letters became more and more personal. Genevieve admitted she was worried about whether or not she was good enough to make it in the wizarding world and that she was worried she would lose her parents if she did. Draco admitted he was starting to have doubts about the validity of his family's blood purity fanaticism.

Receiving letters from Draco made the summer pass more quickly than normal and soon, it was time to return to Hogwarts for her fourth year. She nearly skipped the entire way onto the platform, ignoring the dour look on her mother's face. She sucked in her bottom lip in an attempt to reign in any squealing she might do at the sight of the Hogwarts Express. She darted onto the train and quickly chose a compartment, far too excited to keep from bouncing in her seat. She bounced over to the window and pressed her face against it. She was among the first to arrive; she would be waiting for quite a while before anyone joined her.

"Do you think she's gone barmy on us," someone whispered from the doorway.

"She looks absolutely barking, as usual," another voice replied. Genevieve leaped to her feet and threw herself at Katie and Leanne. "Oh, stuff it, you two!"

"You do realize you just saw us not two weeks ago," Katie question, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

"Yes, and it was ages ago, I was barking for a couple days there," she said putting a hand to her head dramatically, "I contracted a high grade fever and was quite convinced I was the second coming of Morgan le Fay for almost a week."

The two giggled at her. "Oh, come off it," Katie howled as she shoved her housemate playfully.

"I think you're both of your rockers," Leanne joked, pushing her unruly black hair away from her face as she loaded her trunk onto the baggage shelf.

"Did you see Cedric Diggory on the platform," Katie cut in. "He's absolutely a dream, so fit."

"He's also a complete push over," Alicia Spinnet snorted as she shoved into the compartment. "You have the worst taste in men ever, Bell."

"Oh, and I suppose your taste is just impeccable considering you've been pining over Roger Davies for the better part of two years."

"Going on three," Angelina muttered as she shoved in behind her fellow chaser. Alicia shot her an indignant look. "Shut up, Johnson."

"Oh, like it was ever some big secret. Your eyes are practically glued to his backside any time that boy is on a broom."

"Guys," Leanne started, becoming just as nervous with the level of tension in the compartment as Genevieve was. "How ever do they manage to win a single game with the way the three of them are always going at it," Genevieve asked, never taking her eyes off the near shrieking match before them.

"You'd think they were all from Slytherin," Leanne whispered. The three Quidditch players all glared at one another for a moment before taking their seats.  
Angelina blinked in surprise at Genevieve. "Hey, your hair's down. And it's a bit longer."

Genevieve nodded. Angelina smiled. "It looks good, Gen."

Katie pointed at her chest. "And her knockers have gotten _huge_," the brunette exclaimed. Genevieve smacked her hand away and scowled. "They are not!"

Alicia smirked. "They are compared to how big they were last year. What did you eat? Or did you go to one of those wizard clinics?"

Katie ignored her. "They're fantastic! Take your sweater off so we can see how perky they are!"

"Sometimes I wonder about you, Kates," Leanne murmured with a shake of her head.

"I think you're all barmy," Angelina said as she pulled out an issue of Witch Weekly. "How awful do you think Wood's going to be about Quidditch this year."

"I don't even want to think about it," Katie scowled. Alicia mirrored her expression, crossing her arms for good measure, "he can sod off if he thinks I'm going to go for one of his mental training schedules. If we can't beat the other houses using a normal training schedule then we should all just pack up now."

"That boy needs a hobby."

"He has one," Alicia replied, tossing a quaffle in the air, "it's called school." The other four laughed and Genevieve leaned back in her seat.

"Is it just me or did the third year boys go through a growth spurt?"

"They've definitely grown up. Some of them are right fit blokes now."

"This is a disgusting conversation," Alicia stated drolly. "Change the subject. I'm sick of boys."

"Well, what classes are you taking then?"

"Hey, where's Beckwith?"

"Who cares? Probably terrorizing Oliver."

"Figures."

The train ride to Hogwarts was relaxed and Genevieve didn't even mind it when Leanne set about braiding her thick mane of curling brown hair.

"Shove it," Angelina snapped suddenly, dropping her magazine and bolting upright. "Did you feel that?"

Alicia stopped tossing her quaffle just as the Hogwarts Express came to a screeching halt and the lights went out. Genevieve exhaled shakily and cringed when she could see her breath. It had gotten so cold so suddenly. Angelina lunged forward and kicked the compartment door closed. Katie pressed her face up against the window. "Guys, I see something. And it doesn't look friendly. It looks like it's wearing some sort of black cloak. Almost looks like a death eater!"

"Bell, get the bloody hell away from the door," Alicia hissed, latching onto the younger girls arm and yanking her backward. She tumbled to the floor and Alicia pulled her back against the other side of the compartment. Katie didn't even protest when her head collided with the back window, causing a dull thud to echo mutely throughout the compartment. The five girls jumped when a shadow passed outside the train. Leanne hissed, "What is it?"

"Whatever it is, there's more than one," Angelina whispered. Fear shown clearly in her dark brown eyes. "And whatever it is, it's not friendly."

"What if it's Sirius Black and some death eaters coming to kill us all?"

Suddenly, someone was screaming and the girls all clutched one another. Leanne whimpered and Katie gripped her hand hard as she wrapped her other arms around Genevieve. Genevieve reached across and grabbed onto Angelina, who scrabbled to grab a hold of Alicia. Together, the five of them sank onto the floor of the compartment.

They withdrew into each other, shielding one another. "We'll be okay," Alicia breathed over and over again. Someone else sniffled. The lights were still off, when someone threw open the compartment door. They all jumped again.

"Professor Lupin asked me to check the forward compartments. Is everyone alright," asked a masculine voice that would have been irritatingly familiar under any other circumstances. "MacDuff?"

Cautiously, Genevieve looked up, sniffing as she did so. Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, his lanky frame taking up almost all the space the doorway could provide. When had he gotten so tall? His white pressed shirt was untucked and rumpled and his hair looked unruly. He looked almost frantic for a moment and then his face was a cold mask. "Do you need me to get Professor Lupin?"

"I think I'm alright," she said, her voice quivering. She saw him tense the barest bit. He nodded once after a moment's hesitation and then disappeared, slamming the door shut before anymore could be said. The compartment was silent for a long while before Alicia final spoke. "When did Malfoy get so fit?"

"No kidding," Angelina said as she slowly pulled herself up off the floor.

Once they reached the station, Genevieve exited the train in a daze. It had been a dementor on the train. It had been looking for Sirius Black, whoever that was. All she knew was he was a death eater who had escaped Azkaban. She gripped her trunk and slowly made her way to the carriage, trying hard to brush off the oppressive, dark feeling of infinite despair that had settled in her stomach along with the appearance of the dementor. She didn't remember the carriage ride or the feast. She didn't even remember changing into her pajamas for bed.

It wasn't until the next day that she finally snapped out of her daze. It was breakfast and she had done nothing but shove her eggs around on her plate with the tip of her fork. For some reason, the sight of her uneaten cold breakfast finally snapped her out of it. She slammed her fork down on her plate and looked up to find her four friends staring at her. "I'm being ridiculous. No one was hurt and nothing happened."

"Look, there's nothing wrong with still being weirded out," Angelina assured her. "That dementor should not have been on the train. Sirius Black wouldn't be stupid enough to have been on the Hogwarts Express anyway."

The other three chorused their agreement. Genevieve shrugged. "I've just. That's my first time facing anything dark like that before."

Katie looked down at her plate. "Me, too."

"I-I think I'm going to head to class early." She stood and nobody tried to stop her as she hurried from the great slung her bookbag up farther on her shoulder as she hurried out of the castle toward Care of Magical Creatures. The class was meeting next to the black lake, She was just passing the tree line of the Forbidden forest when a pale hand shot out from behind one of the trees and grabbed her. She let out half a shriek before another hand covered her mouth. Her eyes widened in recognition and her assailant slowly moved his hand away.

"Sweet Merlin, Draco, don't do that," she cried, swatting him in the chest and then rubbing the palm of her hand. She gave him a funny look. "Have you been working out? Blimey, you're tall."

They stared at one another for several long moments, blinking. He was so tall now. He absolutely towered over her and his pale blond hair fell in his eyes, no longer slicked back. Draco Malfoy was no longer a boy. He was becoming a man.

Genevieve took a step back and wrapped an arm around herself, self-conscious of the changes of her own body. It seemed the Slytherin boy before her had also noticed as he was looking everywhere but at her as he shifted his weight from foot to foot uneasily.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay. After yesterday. On the train," he managed, casting a cautious glance toward her. She nodded hasitly. "Yes, I'm fine," she said quickly, her words coming out in a garbled mess. Her face was beginning to burn, which could only mean one thing. She was blushing. Bullocks. "Um, are-are you alright?"

He looked at her again, took in her flushed face and smirked in a way she had never seen him smirk before. "Yes, I'm alright."

She relaxed enough to fall back against the tree trunk behind her. "I didn't know things like that existed," she said in a voice that was much too subdued for Draco's liking. He gave her a sympathetic look. "Nobody wants to face a dementor, Vivvy."

She scowled at him. "I told you not to call me that the last time I wrote you."

He smirked again and Genevieve was suddenly aware of just how disconcerting it was. "Since when do I ever listen to anybody?"

"You can be such an arrogant berk sometimes," she said disbelievingly as she smack him in the stomach with the back of her hand. He grinned, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. They laughed together for a moment before Draco became serious again. "Look, Viv-Gen, This thing with Sirius Black, promise me you'll be careful. He's-he's a death eater and you know how death eaters feel about muggle-borns."

"But what about you?"

Draco turned away from her partially, sighing. "I suppose it's best you find out now instead of later." He took a deep breath and turned to face her. "Sirius Black is my mother's cousin. I don't know the whole story, but I know that at one time everyone thought he was a blood-traitor."

Genevieve merely blinked in astonishment at him. He rubbed the back of his head, nervous. "There's more."

Genevieve pushed away from the tree and put a hand on his arm, "What? What is it?"

"He's the one that killed Harry Potter's parents," Draco confessed staring at the leaf covered ground. When she didn't speak, he continued, "killed a bunch of muggles, too. A couple dozen, I think. Everyone was so proud when they found out."

"That's awful," she whispered. Draco nodded silently and Genevieve couldn't tell if he truly agreed with her or not. There was something in his expression that told her he was conflicted on many fronts. Hopefully, one day, he would be willing to tell her.

"He wouldn't hurt you...would he," she asked haltingly, swallowing hard at the bloody image of Draco her imagination conjured, "I mean, you're family."

"My family isn't exactly what you'd call sane," he replied, giving her a pained smile. She took his hand comfortingly, blushing once again when she felt how large his hand was compared to hers. They stared at their entwined fingers and she pulled away slowly so as not to offend him. Her scalp was tingling, which meant she was indeed blushing furiously. Her entire body felt as though it had been on fire and she was dunked in ice water to put out the flames.

Why was it suddenly so hard to look him in the eye? It was only Draco Malfoy. Draco, the boy she had tutored for two years and befriended over the summer. She cleared her throat and he swallowed thickly.

"Are you afraid? Of Sirius?"

"I never met him," he replied with a shrug. "You should probably get to class."

She nodded mutely, smoothing some imaginary wrinkles from her skirt as she turned away. "Genevieve," he called. She turned, ignoring the sharp pang of anticipation in her chest, unsure of what it meant. "Yes?"

"I know it's early in the year, but would maybe want to meet in the library after dinner," he asked, looking just as unsure of himself as she felt. It was confusing, how disappointed she felt just then. What did she have to be disappointed about? She nodded quickly. "It would be nice to talk and...I've missed you."

She didn't wait for his reply. She turned back around and hurried off, hoping and praying that her embarrassment would fade by the time she reached the other students. Care of Magical Creatures passed in a blur as did most of the day. It was the first time she could remember in which she spent the entire day in a daze.

"I've never seen you like this," Katie whispered as they headed toward the great hall for evening feast. "You've never blown off note taking. Ever. And you even forgot to write down your assignments for all your classes. Did you see the look on Snape's face when he asked you what the key ingredient to a Draught of Peace was and the best you could come up with was dried batwing? Which isn't even in it?!"

"I know, I know," Genevieve moaned, covering her face with her hand, "today has not been my day. I don't know what's wrong with me. My stomach's in notes, I can't stop shaking-I think maybe I've got the flu."

"You did look a bit peaky when you arrived to Care of Magical Creatures," Katie agreed, "I thought you were going to be sick."

Genevieve pursed her lips and tried not to scowl as they neared the doors to the great hall.

"Do you think they'll have bangers and mash? I'm not much of a fan, but for some reason, I'm craving it," Katie laughed as she rubbed her hands together jokingly. Genevieve smiled at her weakly and Katie patted her shoulder. "Honestly, Gen, you'll be fine. Maybe you're just having first day of school jitters or something."

"Maybe." Genevieve agreed, though she wasn't convinced-especially when she chanced a glance over at the Slytherin table and caught sight of Draco laughing at something Adrian Pucey said as he lifted his glass of pumpkin juice. Her heart thudded to an absolute halt and Genevieve was on the verge of panic. What was going on? She inhaled sharply when he glanced in her direction as well and winked.

"Oh, bloody hell," she breathed, feeling the heat creep into her face, "Katie, I swear on the sword of Gryffindor I'm going mad!"

Katie placed the palm of her hand over Genevieve's forehead. "You don't have a fever. Maybe you're just tired?"

"Maybe..."

"What's wrong with her?" Genevieve shook herself out of her stupor to find that they had somehow gotten from the doorway to the Gryffindor table, where Angelina was staring up at them in concern. Katie shook her head and shrugged. "She's just out of it."

She pulled Genevieve down beside her on the bench and began to pile their plates full of food. Genevieve poked at her food, fighting hard to keep from looking over at the Slytherin table again. The first time hadn't gone so well for her. She tried to focus on the chatter surrounding her, but couldn't. She had decided not long before that if she was going to talk to anyone about any of the secrets she'd kept to herself, it would be Draco and she wasn't sure if that was such a good idea now. She could hardly look him in the eye anymore.

She let out a long drawn out sigh and poked at her dinner roll. She looked up to Angelina, mouth open to tell her she was fine when she caught sight of Pansy Parkinson over her shoulder. Pansy was pressed up against Draco's side and she was laughing-no, _giggling_-much too long and much too hard at something he was saying. And he seemed perfectly fine with it. The dolt seemed _perfectly fine with it._

"That ugly, dog-faced _cow_," Genevieve snarled under her breath. Angelina froze, spoon suspended in the air. She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"She's barmy," Alicia whispered, much too loudly and Genevieve's gaze cut over too her. The murderous scowl on her face caused Alicia lean back and away from the table. "I am fine," Genevieve gritted out. "I'm bloody brilliant."

Alicia held her hands up and nodded emphatically in agreement. "And you look it! Really! It's just-most people don't call one of their good friends an ugly, dog-faced cow."

"I didn't call Angelina that, I called-" She broke off what she was about to say and exhaled through her nose. "I was talking about someone else."

"Who? Was it Beckwith? You know she's still after Wood, right? He's having none of it."

Genevieve snorted and took a long drink from her glass of pumpkin juice. "Of course, he isn't. The bloke has half a brain and anyone with half a brain is far too smart to fall for a stupid chit like her."

Alicia choked on her pumpkin juice while Angelina coughed to keep from spitting out the piece of roast pheasant she'd just put in her mouth. Katie's jaw seemed dangerously close to hitting the surface of the table. But Genevieve didn't notice. She was much too busy slathering butter on her dinner roll with reckless abandon as she glared daggers at it. "Unless of course I'm giving him too much credit, and he enjoys snogging gutter slags."

"Not that I don't love what gotten into you-and I do love it-but what has gotten into you," Alicia asked, eyes sparkling with glee. Of the four, she had the largest mean streak.

"I'm just tired of watching a bunch of trollops flounce about the castle like their shit doesn't stink like dungbombs. I mean, if it truly smelled like roses the way they think it does, we'd all have our noses stuck so far up their pale asses we'd be able to see this afternoon's tea," she said coolly. By now, all immediate chatter surrounding them had ceased and there was a long drawn out pause. Again Genevieve hadn't noticed. She slammed her knife down on the table. "And the boys that fall for it! Are they really that stupid? Can they not tell that they're about to snog a toad-faced imbecile or do they just not care? Are they that desperate? I'd rather shag a dementor than one of those dolled up tarts!" She jabbed her finger in the direction over Angelina's shoulder. "Look at Parkinson. It's as if her parents dressed a bulldog up in frilly dress robes and raised it as their own. She has the vocabulary of a bulldog as well. I don't think there's enough makeup in the world to cover the ugly up on that thing."

Alicia started slamming her hands down on the table over and over while Angelina fell into her side. Both girls were laughing so hard they were on the verge of tears.

"Oh my God, I love you! I love you so much," Alicia wailed as she clutched her stomach. Katie bit her lip hard, trying her damnedest to keep from laughing. But it seemed that most everyone around them was keeled over with laughter. The only one not currently laughing was Genevieve. Instead, she bit into her dinner roll and scowled. "I think I may be PMSing. Or somebody spiked my pumpkin juice with Veritaserum. Either way, we've all had a very informative dinner."

The laughter increased and Genevieve looked at each of her friends in turn, feeling herself begin to truly smile. She felt better now; whatever it had been that had made her so angry was no longer a bother. She looked up into time to find none other than Pansy Parkinson sneering at their table with a superior look on her face. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and several of the other Gryffindor students followed her gaze and burst into more laughter. Alicia actually pointed at her as she broke down again. Pansy scowled her displeasure and Genevieve felt it was her turn to smirk. Feeling incredibly bold, she leaned forward and Barked at her. "Woof!"

Nobody at the other tables had to be in on the conversation to know what that one sound implied and many of the students at other tables also started laughing. The entire Gryffindor table was positively howling with glee. Watching Pansy turn several shades of red was just icing on the cake. She was scowling still, though her proud and superior expression had faltered dramatically.

"Well, I think I'm done for the night," Genevieve proclaimed with a satisfied smile. "I'm going to go read in the library."

"There's the Genevieve MacDuff we all know and love," Alicia joked before waving her off and then tossing a smirk over her shoulder. Pansy answered with gesture that was not at all ladylike. The other girls chorused their goodbyes.

"Night, MacDuff," someone called and she waved in their general direction. Once she was out of the great hall and in the corridors she let out a long sigh and headed toward the library. Her nerves were beginning to get to her again. She was still not sure if she should tell Draco anything, but she didn't know who else she could talk to, no one who could help her.

The library was silent, save for the sound of Madam Pince, at her desk, shuffling through several scrolls. Genevieve smiled in greeting and journeyed to the very back of the library. It was dark and dimly lit, as it had been for the past two years. The familiar musty scent enveloped her and she inhaled deeply. She loved the smell of old books.

She sat down at their usual table and pulled a random book from one of the shelves nearest to her and crossed her legs under the table. The fabric of her skirt scraped roughly against the underside of the tabletop, catching on the wood, and she pulled it away gently so as not to tears any threads loose. As she did so, her knuckles scraped across what felt like markings carved into the underside of the table. Curious, she pushed her chair back and crouched down, crawling part way under the table. She pulled her wand from her pocket. "Lumos," she whispered, tilting her head up. There, burned crudely into the ancient wood of the table was "S.B.+P.P.". "S.B.," she murmured thoughtfully, "Sirius Black..."

Genevieve crawled out from under the table and lowered herself back in her chair. It was strange to think that where she sat, the table where she had spent countless hours tutoring Draco-the table she considered theirs-was the very same table where mass-murderer Sirius Black had possibly sat with his girlfriend while he attended Hogwarts. Had they been in love? Did he miss her? Or was she one of the people he killed along with Harry's parents? Had it all been a lie? Had this symbol of his love to her really been nothing more than a lie to make her believe he wasn't capable of doing those hideous things? Or was it true? Was she the only one he was able to feel anything for?

She was so focused on her thoughts she didn't notice Draco's arrival until he was sitting across from her. She gasped when she finally noticed him and then shook herself out of her thoughts. His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you alright? You look like something's bothering you."

She placed her hands on the table to keep from wringing them in her lap. It didn't keep her from chewing on her lip, though. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs again, flinching when her knee brushed the scorch marks on the underside of the table once again. "Draco," she started, leaning forward, her violet eyes staring into his silvery grey ones solemnly, "I can trust you, can't I? You're my friend, honestly and truly, right?"

Sensing the seriousness of the oncoming discussion, Draco took hold of her hands in his. "Vivvy, you can tell me anything. I swear it, whatever secrets you may have, they're safe with me."

She nodded once and pulled her hand from his and reached into her pocket. Without taking her eyes from his, she slid something onto the table. Slowly, Draco lowered his gaze and picked up the item she had lain on the table. "A key? What's it for?"

"It's to my vault. At Gringott's."

"What did you get a vault for," he asked as he studied the key from all angles.

"I didn't." He switched his gaze to her instantly. "What do you mean you didn't? Witches and wizards-_muggle-born_ witches and wizards-don't just have vaults waiting for them. It's not possible unless-" He stopped and Genevieve nodded. "Unless I'm not muggle-born."

"How long have you known," he asked softly. Genevieve swallowed thickly. "I got the key when I went to Gringott's for the first time. The goblin who gave it to me, he said, he'd been instructed to hold it for me. And then the sorting hat-" she stopped and cleared her throat, "the sorting hat...he told me, I was brilliant, as talented as my mother. That because of that I would do well in Ravenclaw, but I was more like my father. He said that we were both bred for Slytherin, but bound for Gryffindor."

"But you said your parents are muggles."

"And I wasn't lying about that," she replied, "they really are muggles. And I think this is the reason my mother is so terrified of magic. Because she knows it means I'm different from them. Because it shows I'm not really their child." She wiped at her cheek when she felt a tear trail down it. "Draco, I think I'm adopted."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The Unraveling Pt.2**

_"Half of writing history is hiding the truth."_  
_-Joss Whedon_

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Genevieve looked up from her Transfiguration essay and over to Draco. He had tossed his quill on top of his parchment and his expression was close to an insolent glare as it could be. "Tell you what?"

"That you're not muggle-born? Why did it take you two bloody years to tell me," he snapped. Genevieve's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "I just confessed to you the other night that I don't know who my real parents are and you're making this about you?" She shook her head in amazement. "You're amazing, Draco, absolutely amazing. Here it is I think I've figured you out and there you go, shocking me with your self-absorption!"

He scowled. "I want an answer, Gen." She scowled back, though she was not half as mad as she let on. Mostly, she was embarrassed. "When should I have told you?"

"When we became friends, perhaps," he asked, scoffing, "that seems like an excellent time to say something."

"Draco, you are the only person who knows about this," she gritted out, clenching the edge of the table, "shouldn't that mean something to you? Why is this such an issue for you?"

"Why can't you tell me? Do you think the answer would hurt my feelings?"

"No," she snapped, "not at all. I just don't think it's important."

"It's important to _me_," he snapped back, his expression resolute. She sagged in defeat, her expression still sullen. "I told you it was because I was worried. I didn't know who to trust-"

"Bullocks, MacDuff, why?"

She fell back in her chair and looked away from. "Because it made me feel special."

Draco's face scrunched up in confusion. "Lying about being a muggle-born made you feel special? You do remember how many muggle-borns there are, right?"

"Yes, but," she halted sliding her gaze over to him nervously, "but how many of them are you friends with? I liked being the only one you talked to. The only one you cared about. It made me feel special."

"You could be a..a half-blood," Draco muttered as he cleared his throat as he looked everywhere but at her. "But even i-if you turn out to be a pureblood, you'll still be special. To me."

An awkward silence descended on the pair and Genevieve opened and closed her mouth several times before finally finding the courage to say something. "How...far are you? On your essay?"

Draco jolted forward to grip his quill and parchment, still refusing to look at her and she made sure to keep her gaze trained only on his essay. "I'm almost done. Do you want to look at what I've got so far?"

She nodded and held out her hand. As they transferred the essay between the two of them, their fingers grazed one another and they pulled away simultaneously, dropping the parchment on the table. Genevieve scrambled to pick it up and Draco drummed his fingers on the tabletop as she read over his writing. She handed it back to him briskly. "It's good. Quite brilliant, really. I don't think there's any way in which to improve it."

"So, we're done, then?"

She nodded and started packing up her things, all the while aware of Draco's searching gaze. "Until tomorrow then?"

Genevieve nodded yet again. "Until tomorrow." She winced when she realized how shaky her voice had sounded even to her own ears. What on earth was wrong with her? Just as she started to pass the first shelf of books, Draco called out, "Genevieve, are you going to Hogsmeade? Next month-Hogs-Hogsmeade..."

She turned slowly. Draco was looking at her nervously, one hand shoved in the pocket of his robes. She watched as his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed violently. "Yes, I'm planning on buying everyone's Christmas presents."

"Would you maybe want to meet up? By the Shrieking Shack?"

"Isn't that," she almost choked on her tongue then, "that where students go to...snog?"

Genevieve had never witnessed someone turn so red so quickly. "So we can talk," he practically shouted at her, his eyes wide and wild. "You know, I-you-not-nevermind."

"What?"

"Nevermind," he insisted and his voice cracked. "It was stupid. We can talk any night of the week."

"Right," she said hesitantly as she backed away. "How about we meet up by the lake before your Care of Magical Creatures class? I have lunch then. We can meet by the lake near to where your class will be meeting."

"That works for me," Draco replied quietly, still slightly red in the face. Hie embarrassment was causing her to feel embarrassed as well. She nodded, clutching her books close to her chest and Gave him a small wave. "Well, I'll see you then. Good night, Draco."

He nodded once at her retreating form, an unrecognizable look in his eyes, flickering behind his nonchalant manner.

When Genevieve reached the common room, she was confronted by a very distraught redheaded third year. "Have you seen Scabbers?"

"Who," she asked, momentarily fearing for the poor boy's sanity.

"It's his pet rat," Oliver Wood answered from a table nearby where he was lounging with Alicia and the Weasley twins, "he's lost it. Again."

She watched as Ron darted back and forth across the room frantically. "Why don't you put him in a cage, then?"

"Percy never had to put him in a cage," Ron cried as he bent down to check under the couch by the fireplace for the umpteenth time. "Hermione's devil cat ate him, I just know it."

"All the more reason to keep him in a cage then," the girl in question snapped as she stomped down the stairs into the common room. She was scowling angrily. Her hair looked uncharacteristically frizzy. "I've found no dead rats in my room, Ronald, none in any of the other girl's dormitories and Crookshanks isn't even in the tower right now."

"Doesn't mean he didn't eat him. Could've done it while we were in class," Ron mumbled sourly, scowling back just as fiercely. Genevieve rolled her eyes at the pair and started toward the stairs.

"Oi, Gen, where've you been," Alicia called though it was clear she was so interested. "Tutoring," she answered as she made her way toward the steps. Alicia looked up from picking at the nail beds on her left hand. "I thought you quit most of that?"

"I'm only tutoring one student right now."

Alicia's eyebrows shot up into hairline. "Is it that same one you were meeting practically every night last year?"

Genevieve hugged her book closer to her chest defensively. "Yes, why?"

Alicia smirked. "Sounds more like a study date to me. It's a bloke, right? I think I remember you mentioning something about him being a bloke."

"Yes, he is a boy, but he is still my pupil," she stuttered out, horrified at what her dark-haired friend was implying. "That would be extremely inappropriate."

"So what you're saying is you find him wicked fit," Alicia asked, now completely enthralled with how uncomfortable she was making her friend.

"Who is it?" Genevieve jumped and turned around. Angelina Johnson looked positively ecstatic at the thought of one of her friends fancying a boy. "Is it Diggory? Davies? Ooooh, maybe it's Edgecomb."

"No, I do _not_," she stammered in mortification, "I could never-we're just friends. And all we ever do is work on homework and study and-and what you are insinuating is just despicable!"

The Weasley twins whistled in unison and Angelina's grin widened. "Oh, you _really_ fancy him. I mean, you _really really_ fancy him."

"_I do not fancy him_," she insisted. She was growing more and more agitated by the moment. Without waiting for a response from any of them, she stormed up the stairs to her dormitory and slammed the door. She threw her books down on the floor and slumped down on her bed.

"What's got your wand in a knot," Rosamund sniped as she pranced in from the bathroom, looking more self-involved than usual. Genevieve stared up at the canopy of her bad and asked, "Hot plans with Wood tonight?"

"Oh, that," Rosmund replied boredly, "that's pretty much run its course."

"You mean he didn't bite." Genevieve couldn't keep from smiling. Rosamund's head snapped in her direction and her eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared in irritation. "No, I just got tired of him. And, after I really thought about it, most Quidditch players don't stay in the league long. Who wants to be married to a has-been? No, mother and father were right, of course. One should always try to marry into old money."

"Well, I'm sure you and Pucey will make a lovely couple," she said, only half-joking. Adrian Pucey was foul, but he wasn't in any way hideous. And she would be lying if she said Rosamund wasn't at least a bit attractive. It was their personalities that made them so repulsive.

"Pucey," Rosamund chortled, "Heaven's no! Me and Pucey? How utterly ridiculous. No, I'm talking about Malfoy."

Genevieve snapped to attention, pushing herself up onto her elbows so that she could stare at her former best friend with wide eyes. "Malfoy? _Malfoy_? Draco _Malfoy_?"

Rosamund gave her a condescending look as she ran her fingers through her hair and adjusted the sleeves of her top. "Who else would I be talking about?"

Genevieve just stared at her in dumb shock. Draco Malfoy? _Draco Malfoy_?! Rosamund was going to try to seduce Draco Malfoy?! At that moment, Genevieve didn't know whether she should laugh or scream in outrage. There was absolutely no way in hell Draco would ever fall for that...right? Hadn't he voiced his disdain about her only last year?

She studied the blonde girl critically and quickly decided she did not like what she saw. It appeared several of Rosamund's physical attributes had "blossomed" over the summer. One of those attributes being-most notably-her breasts. Her lips seemed a bit poutier as well. And her hair had always been fabulous.

"Perfect, isn't it," she exclaimed, a smug smile adorning her face. Genevieve was dismayed to realize that she hadn't gone overboard with the makeup, which meant she possessed some amount of natural beauty. Rosamund let out an exaggerated sigh, "I can't believe I didn't see it before. He's tall, fit, smart, well-connected, and he's filthy rich!"

Genevieve wanted to vomit then. "It sounds wonderful," she muttered as she buried herself in her blankets. She was never getting up again. If by some sick coincidence, Draco did actually decide to date Rosamund, Genevieve was never getting out of bed again. She was going to lay there, unmoving, until various forms of fungi began to grow on her. And then she was going to lay there some more.

Rosamund flitted out of the room without so much as a backward glance and Genevieve continued to lay there motionless for the rest of the night. All she could think of was Rosamund hanging all over Draco the way Pansy had and it set her teeth on edge. It left the foulest taste in her mouth. The idea disgusted her. Rosamund and Pansy were beneath him. He knew that, right? Draco knew he deserved better than either of them...didn't he?

She couldn't stop her mind from racing, couldn't understand why it was so troublesome to her. Draco was brilliant, he was kind, he was...he wouldn't fall for someone like Rosamund. Not ever. She was sure of it. She needed to be sure of it. She would warn him tomorrow and that would be the end of it. Her resolution to herself didn't exactly make it any easier to sleep and the next morning she felt as close to a zombie as possible. She was positive she resembled an inferi.

She showered, dressed, and stumbled partway down the steps and across the common room. She couldn't stop yawning and she barely managed to get through breakfast without face-planting in her plate of bacon and eggs. She scrubbed a hand over her face as she exited the great hall with the rest of the other students, trudging along and fighting exhaustion the entire way.

Herbology, Charms, and Ancient Runes passed in a dull blur that seemed much too endless. She could barely manage to keep her eyes open as Professor Sprout attempted to wrestle a tentaculily into a new pot. It took her three tries when the agitated plant managed to whip one of its tentacles at her, knocking her hat off her head. If she hadn't been so tired, Genevieve would have laughed along with the rest of her class.

She sighed in relief once free period arrived and tripped her way toward Black Lake, ignoring snide remarks from Marcus Flint as she went. He managed to call her "mudblood" several times in a row. Creative. Once she reached the lake, she sighed heavily, and dropped her bag at the foot of a tree and then settled down in between its roots. She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. A short nap wouldn't hurt, would it?

She had dozed off for no more than ten minutes when she felt a puff of overly warm breath brush against her cheek accompanied by intense purring. She cracked one violet eye and yawned. "Oh, Crookshanks, go back to the castle," she mumbled, patting the cat absently and readjusting her position. "I'm busy."

The cat let out an annoyed growl and swatted at her nose. She batted his paw away and he batted back. Trying her best to look annoyed, she scowled down at the orange feline. "Crookshanks, I'm tired. Go bother Weasley, you seem to enjoy that enough."

The cat settle on her lap and stared up at her in boredom. She rolled her eyes in resignation. "You are stubborn, aren't you?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth then Crookshanks stood and gazed off at the Forbidden forest, as if waiting. Genevieve followed the cat's stare to a big, shaggy, black dog that was standing at the forest's edge. Its ears were flattened close to its head and it was staring at her with silver eyes that seemed almost wary. It looked less than friendly.

"Did Hagrid get another dog," she wondered aloud as she stood, dusting off her robes. She eyed the stray just as warily. He didn't look too friendly. She bent at the waist and let out a soft whistle. "Come, here, boy!"

The dog sat back on its haunches and continued to stare at her. Only now it looked a bit haughty in its dismissal of her. She snorted in amusement. She was being blown off by a dog. She shrugged to herself and sat back down under the tree. "You're welcome to join us at any time."

She pulled out her potions book and hummed idly as she thumbed through the pages towards the one she'd marked. She muttered to herself as she listed off potion ingredients in her head and then snapped the book shut, trying to recall what she'd just read from memory. The sound of heavy panting nearby alerted her to the presence of the big shaggy dog. He was sitting no farther than a foot away. His head was tilted to one side and it gave Genevieve the impression that he was studying her the way a human would.

She stared back just as intently, unflinching when the dog trotted forward, plopped down next to her, and laid his head on her knee. She raised an eyebrow and scratched behind his ears. Crookshanks perched himself on her other side and curled up, still purring. Genevieve giggled. "I feel like a fairytale princess. Are any bunnies and does going to come frolicking out of the woods soon?" The dog let out a snort and she laughed again before leaning back and lazily petting the dog as she stared out at the lake.

"What the bloody hell is that, MacDuff," exclaimed a familiar voice. The dog jumped to its feet and growled. She sat up slowly and patted its head. "It's a stray dog, Draco, I thought that was obvious."

"And you're just letting it cuddle up to you," he cried looking concerned and angry all at once, "what if it has rabies and it bites you?"

"Then I'll let you hex it into oblivion like the big, strong man that you are," she laughed, "now, shut up and come sit with us."

Draco rolled his eyes and settled down next to her. It didn't escape her notice that the dog was still growling at him. She gave it a reproving look and then turned her attention back to the blond boy before her. Draco was staring at her with an odd look on his face. "You have a leaf. In your hair," he muttered, reaching over to pull it out. Genevieve flushed at the sudden contact and tried to ignore the fact that Draco's long fingers were currently running through her hair in a way that was slower than necessary. She cleared her throat and he snapped out of whatever daze he'd been in.

"They think Sirius Black is headed toward Hogwarts," he informed her, directing his gaze out toward the lake, "everyone thinks he's after Potter, I'm sure of it."

"Sirius Black was a Gryffindor, wasn't he," she asked. Draco nodded, brow furrowed in confusion, "First and only one in the Black family sorted into any house other than Slytherin. Mum says he ran away from home. Went to live with James Potter. He was a blood-traitor."

"Draco," she said lowly, looking at the dog, who was still staring at Draco with an indecisive expression on its face, "if we're best friends," the dog's attention snapped to her then. "doesn't that make you a blood-traitor as well?"

"Yes," he answered not even seemingly concerned, "if Mum and Dad ever found out about you, I'd be disowned. Or worse."

"Then maybe we shouldn't-"

"Shut your gob, Vivvy. If you think I'm going to even consider dumping you as a friend, you're barking." She pursed her lips thoughtfully and then said, "Do you think he could be my Dad? Sirius, I mean. We're both Gryffindors who could have been placed in Slytherin. The sorting hat basically implied I'm a pureblood-"

"Yes, but I don't ever remember Mum or anyone else mentioning any pureblood girls involved with Sirius. Not that he was a subject my family was ever fond of mentioning. Even after he killed all those muggles. Mom said everyone hated him even more after that." His brow furrowed in thought. "That's rather odd isn't it? You'd think they'd be happy about him killing the Potters and a bunch of muggles-maybe even welcome him back into the family, but whenever he's mentioned, Mum gets real sad. Dad says after he killed them all, Aunt Bellatrix went on a tear. Tortured a bunch of people."

"Rosamund has a crush on you," she blurted suddenly, not understanding why that was her response to the information he'd just given her "She thinks the two of you are perfect for one another."

He made a disgusted face. "Me and Rosamund Beckwith? That stupid bint? I wouldn't touch her wearing a pair of dragonhide gloves. She's worse than Parkinson."

"Yes, but you let Parkinson actually touch you." She couldn't keep the bitter edge from infiltrating her voice. Why did she even care? Draco tossed a rock into the lake and shrugged, "It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, I'm sure." Draco pinned her with an penetrating look. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," she snapped back, scowling at him, "I just think you're better than both of them is all. You could do better."

He leaned closer to her, his expression unreadable and she leaned back at the sudden intrusion into her personal space. "With who? Who could I do better with?"

"I-I-" she stuttered, her eyes much wider than usual. She gulped audibly when Draco's silvery eyes dropped down to her lips and his voice deepened, becoming rougher, "Who could I do better with, Vivvy?"

He leaned even closer and Genevieve's breathing became erratic and her heart raced with anticipation-for what she wasn't sure. They both jolted away from one another when the dog began to bark madly. He pushed himself between the two students and growled at Draco. Genevieve wrapped both arms around the dog's neck and fought to keep him back. "Don't, no! He's my friend!" The dog pulled frantically, growling and snarling at Draco, who scowled back at the dog. "That beast is a menace."

"I don't think he likes you being so close to me," she defended, "I don't know why. It's not like you were going to hurt me."

"I'd never do that. I was going to-" he stopped mid-sentence and his face reddened. The dog stopped barking and struggling instantly. She blushed along with him and released the dog. It looked between the two of them curiously.

"Tutoring same time tonight," Draco asked, his voice cracking into a higher pitch. She nodded and he grabbed his stuff quickly. "Right, I'll see you tonight."

Genevieve stared after him, confused and panicked. Things just kept getting more and more awkward between them and she didn't understand why. Why was it so hard for them to just have normal conversations that didn't turn into awkward staring contests minus the staring?

She growled to herself and stalked off toward the castle, ignoring the whining dog she left behind. She kicked a large stone as she went. She knew she was wearing an unusually stormy expression on her face, but she didn't care. So what if she looked terrifying? She wasn't exactly happy at the moment.

It was time for her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Lupin. She trudged into the classroom and slammed the door open. Those who had already arrived looked up and eyed her openly. She refused to look at anyone as she took her seat and pulled out her textbook and the essay that was currently due. She had finished it three days earlier. It was two feet longer than necessary. She looked ahead, toward professor Lupin's desk, completely ignoring the questioning glance Katie was giving her. It barely registered that even Professor Lupin was staring at her in warily. Had she really barged into class looking that temperamental?

Well, so what? She was angry. She was extremely angry. She slammed her book open, causing many students, including a few Slytherins that happened to be present to jump nervously. Katie tried to surreptitiously scoot further away from her irate friend and Genevieve whirled on her with a thunderous expression. "Quit twitching and get your homework out," she hissed, sounding particularly venomous.

"Bloody hell, she's scary," someone whispered behind her. Damn straight she was. Nobody dismissed Genevieve MacDuff without some much as a backward glance. Especially, not Draco Malfoy.

* * *

AN: eventually, there will be more with Draco and Genevieve and more interaction between Genevieve and Harry, Ron, and Hermione. For now, I plan on taking it slow, but things will definitely pick up once Genevieve reaches her sixth year (which would be Draco's fifth).

Reviews would be appreciated. I like to know whether I'm dropping the ball or not.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Unraveling** **Pt.3**

_"If you don't know history, then you don't know anything. You are a leaf that doesn't know it is part of a tree. "_  
_-Michael Chrichton (1942-2008)_

Things between Genevieve and Draco had gone back to normal for the most part. Awkward silences were few and far between as both had become more focused on their studies. They still spent as much time as possible with one another and Draco had spent the vast majority of his Christmas break trying to help Genevieve figure out candidates to consider as possible parents. So far, things had not progressed well and they were as clueless as ever, but it was beginning to bother her less and less.

Plus, most of the castle was in an uproar over Sirius Black. He'd been caught and escaped earlier in the week. Genevieve wasn't nearly as panicked as everyone else was. She had a feeling he wasn't as much of a threat as everyone believed. If he had been, there would have been far more dead students than there were, and there were none.

She was in the middle of arguing with Katie over whether it was acceptable for a Gryffindor to wear green to any formal function when two owls flew into the great hall. They were both carrying bulky packages. One package was delivered to Harry and another was delivered to Genevieve.

"Gen, you never get mail," Angelina exclaimed as Leanne scrambled over from the Hufflepuff table. She shoved Katie down on the bench. "Open it, you silly twat!"

"Shove off, Leanne, I can't see," Katie whined as she elbowed her friend in annoyance. Leanne elbowed her back and soon the two were involved in a very heated slap fight. Genevieve spared them only a glance and looked back at her package and then over to Harry. He had gotten a brand new Firebolt. Angelina and Alicia had both jumped up to go inspect it with the rest of the Quidditch team minus Katie, who was too focus on shoving Leanne off the bench by her face to notice that Harry had just been gifted the best broom wizarding money could buy.

She looked up just in time for Draco to catch her eye from the Slytherin table. "Open it," he mouthed, looking far more excited than she felt. She slowly unwrapped the package. It was a book. A large book with a Hippogriff feather pressed into the first page. She held it up, inspecting it from all angles and stopped when she noticed Harry doing the very same thing with his own feather not far away. She saw Hermione elbow him and gesture to her subtly, at which point she placed the feather back in the book and slammed it shut. She looked around the great hall, searching for anyone else who might have noticed. Professor Snape was staring at her with a dark look and Professor Lupin looked absolutely fascinated and dare she say a bit excited. Everyone else seemed to be too distracted with their meals or Potter's new broom to see what she had gotten. Even Katie and Leanne had finally noticed what Harry had gotten.

Genevieve took that as her chance to escape and slid off the bench as stealthily as possible, speed-walking her way out of the great hall and into the corridors. She decided the best place to examine the book would be the library. Nobody would suspect anything about a student reading a book in a library. She practically ran to the back of the library, dropped the book on her usual table and sat down hastily.

Only one person would send Harry a present like that. It had to be Sirius Black. Though she couldn't prove it, she was more than sure Harry, Ron, and Hermione had something to do with his escape from the dementors. But it didn't explain why Sirius Black would be sending her a package as well. She had no connection to him. She opened the large book slowly. It was well worn and several of the pages were yellowing.

She thumbed through a few pages and couldn't hide her confusion. It was a spell-book that also included several recipes for potions she'd never heard of. She hadn't heard of any of the spells either. Several of the pages were illegible due to the ink being smeared.

Someone shuffled their feet behind the bookshelf in front of her and she slammed the book shut quickly, placed it in her book bag quickly and stood up. She rounded the bookshelf, intent on confronting whoever it was on the other side and frowned when she discovered that she was completely alone. She shook her head, murmuring to herself, "You're becoming paranoid, Genevieve."

Genevieve left the library and checked the halls. They were still deserted, which meant evening feast wasn't over yet and she could retire to her dormitory to inspect the book further without having to worry about being interrupted. There were only two or three students in the common room. One of them jumped up when they saw her. It was Oliver Wood.

"Hey, MacDuff," he called as she turned to face him. He gave her a friendly smile, "d'you have a moment?"

She smiled and nodded. If she had a moment for anyone, it would be Oliver Wood. He tended to keep to himself when it came to the drama that was always brewing in Hogwarts. Unless, of course, it revolved around Quidditch. Then he was as bad as her great-aunt Mildred. "What is it, Oliver?"

He gave her a sheepish look and rubbed the back of his head. "You didn't by any chance to say anything to Beckwith to get her off my back, did you?"

She had not been expecting that and she blinked up at him in surprise. "No, I didn't. We don't really talk anymore. She's a little self-involved."

"And you're not," Oliver supplied for her, seeming to understand. He smiled. "Well, I suppose she finally got the hint that I wasn't interested then? I mean, I don't really have time for that sort of thing with Quidditch and all..."

Genevieve bit her lip. "Pardon my rudeness, but where is this going?"

"Oh, sorry," he said with a good-natured laugh, "it's not really important. I was just wondering if you knew whether she was over me for good. I'd been thinking about asking you for almost a year now to say something to her about it. I just thought that if she were to listen to anybody, it would be you."

She rolled her eyes. "Rosamund Beckwith listens to no one. And not to worry. She's hung up on someone else now. You're in the clear for good."

Oliver shook his head sympathetically. "Poor bloke. Doesn't even know what he's in for."

Genevieve smirked. "Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that. I've warned him. Repeatedly."

He laughed, eyes twinkling and Genevieve began to remember her first train ride on the Hogwarts Express. She suddenly regretted never making any effort to get to know Oliver. It was his last year at Hogwarts and her time had run out. It made her sad. She'd spent so much time with Draco, she'd neglected her housemates. Only Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were her friends in Gryffindor. Draco and Leanne were the only students from other houses she had befriended as well. Realizing this made her feel like a recluse.

"Oliver," she said suddenly, "I really hope you make it on to Puddlemere United. You're a brilliant keeper."

He gave her a dazzling smile and his eyes shone with happiness at her compliment. Again, his eyes reminded her of hot chocolate. Why had she never bothered to get to know him? She felt so thick-headed.

They bid each other goodnight and she head up to her dormitory, where she dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved thermal top. It always got chilly in the castle at night. She didn't understand how Rosamund could wear such skimpy clothing to bed without freezing to death. Who was she trying to impress anyway? It was a dormitory full of girls!

She lift the spell-book from her bag and snuggled down into her covers as she opened it. The inside of the cover was bare, but on the first piece of flyleaf was written, _"For my father, my uncle, and my mother. May they all see the beauty in the world they created and rest peacefully evermore."_

Casper jumped up on the bed and settled down next to her. She rubbed his back and he purred as she turned the pages of the book slowly. The writing was precise and neat. The lines were perfect. It reminded her of the spell-books in the library and she was certain that the contents of its pages would have made a lovely edition to the library.

Genevieve was cure that none of the spells and potions in the book would be included in any textbook. But who could have written it? Why did they write it? She flipped through each page carefully until she came to a photograph at the back of the book. It was pressed between the last page and the binding. It was slightly yellowed.

It was of a large black dog and a young blonde woman standing out by Black Lake under the same tree she had been meeting Draco at before his Care of Magical Creatures class. The dog looked very familiar. In fact, she knew without a doubt that that was the exact dog that she had been feeding for most of the year. It struck her as odd that the dog had suddenly disappeared at around the same time Sirius had been captured.

The dog was licking the young woman's face excitedly and when she laughed, he looked at the camera and smiled in a way that only a dog can smile. She watched as the image played over and over. The young woman was beautiful. As the dog licked her face, she noticed the ends for her pale blonde hair began to turn a deep shade of blue. The woman was a morphmagus. She flipped the picture over and her eyes widened. "Sirius and Persephone, Seventh Year".

Sirius Black was an animagus, which meant he knew about her and Draco. And it explained why he didn't like Draco. Draco's family had disowned him for being a blood-traitor and so it only seemed right that Sirius wouldn't be very trusting of his cousin's only son. But that didn't change the fact that he hadn't told Harry about them. She was sure he would have told Harry about her involvement with Draco. Draco and Harry hated each other and she could tell that things between the two boys would be coming to a head some time in the near future.

Not that she didn't blame Harry, Ron, and Hermione for being sore at him for the whole Buckbeak debacle. He had, after all, been at fault for that and she'd told him just as much. He hadn't taken it very well, but they hadn't had more than a slight argument over it. It had ended with the two of them glaring at their textbooks hatefully for the better part of an hour.

She flipped the picture back over and ran her fingers over the image delicately. They looked so happy. There was no doubt in Genevieve's mind that this was the girl whose initials had been burned into the underside of the table in the library along with Sirius's initials. She sighed dreamily. It was nice to think of having someone care so much for you. Genevieve wanted that some day. Everyone should have someone who loves them, she thought to herself, someone they can be with forever. Someone who didn't judge them and loved everything about them. It looked like that was something Persephone and Sirius had together.

She put the book in the trunk at the foot of her bed and locked it before snuggling back under the covers and rolling onto her side. She looked at the picture one last time before stuffing it under her pillow, careful not to bend it. She didn't acknowledge the others as they filtered into the dormitory, chatting loudly. Not long afterward, the other girls were snug in their beds, the candles snuffed, and the room was silent.

Genevieve awoke the next day completely refreshed and feeling much lighter than she had in a long time. Her life had become so complicated over the last year that she had constantly felt she was walking around with an intense weight on her shoulders. She could slowly feel that weight being lifted. She spent breakfast laughing with her friends. She even talked to Oliver and wasn't at all bothered when the conversation was heavily dominated by Quidditch and he seemed more than happy to try to explain it to her. Thanks to him, she understood the general gist of the game and definitely planned on going to future games.

McGonagall had confiscated Harry's firebolt. There was some worry that Sirius may have jinxed it, intending to cause Harry harm. She highly doubted that and was surprised to find that she was just as put out by McGonagall's actions as the rest of her housemates. Genevieve didn't know who was more upset, Harry or Oliver. She suspected the latter. Harry just seemed disappointed.

"Here comes Beckwith," Angelina warned, causing Alicia to groan. Genevieve watched as Rosamund strutted over to the table, head held high with her nose pointed up in the air. Could she possibly look any more stuck up? It was sad, really. She stuffed the remainder of her muffin in her mouth and looked away quickly. But it was too late. Rosamund had seen where she was sitting-which just so happened to be next to Oliver. And though Rosamund was no longer interested in him, it didn't mean she wasn't still smarting from his rejection. Rosamund didn't take her eyes, which were full of malice, off of Genevieve as she passed, choosing to sit toward the head of the table.

"Are you going to be okay," Oliver asked. It was clear he had seen the vengeful look in Rosamund's eye, "I can walk you to your next class if you like. You know, just in case."

She shook her head. "She can be confrontational, but she won't do anything. The most she may do is make a few rude remarks and then storm off."

"Sounds about right," Katie chipped in as she reached for a slice of bacon on her plate, "girl's a coward."

"I'd say it's more of her not wanting to mess up her fancy clothes and hair than anything else," Alicia snorted as she shoveled mouthful after mouthful of the biscuits she had piled on her plate. Genevieve watched her in disgust. She could eat Ron Weasley under the table any day. She wrinkled her nose and pushed her plate away. "I think I'm done."

Katie's lip curled at the sight before her and she nodded in agreement. Alicia scowled at both of them and rolled her eyes. Angelina laughed and soon, all of them were laughing. Genevieve grabbed her book bag and stood. "I'm going to go ahead. See you in class Katie?"

Katie nodded and they all waved her off. Genevieve had just made it through the doors of the great hall when she heard someone calling her name. She turned back to the person and was surprised to find it was Harry Potter followed closely by Hermione and Ron. She raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Well, I sort of, was wondering what it was you got in the mail yesterday," Harry explained, seeming unsure of himself. Hermione and Ron looked uncomfortable. Genevieve straightened herself to her full height, lifting her chin the barest bit. "And why would that be any of your business?"

"I think you know why," Harry said heatedly. Genevieve leveled him with her best look. "Enlighten me, Potter."

"Don't play dumb, MacDuff-"

"Ron," Hermione scolded, trying to shoot her an apologetic look. Harry remained insistent. "Who sent you your package?"

"Who sent you yours," she shot back just as stubbornly. By this point, Harry had become quite agitated. "I should like to know why a convicted mass-murderer is sending you packages in the mail."

And there it was. Genevieve's eyes narrowed and she could feel her temper spark. "I think I could ask the same of you, but instead I think I'm more curious to know how said mass-murderer managed to escape Hogwarts and the dementor's kiss. You wouldn't happen to know how that was possible, would you?"

"No," he finally bit out, clearly unhappy with the way the conversation had managed to turn on him, "I wouldn't know anything about it."

"Good," she responded in a clipped tone, "now, if that's all, I'll be going."

She simply turned away without a backward glance. No wonder Harry got on Draco's nerves. That boy had to be the nosiest bloke in school. Draco would have a cow once she told him what had happened. Under any other circumstances, she wouldn't have minded being open with Harry about the spell-book, but if Sirius hadn't mentioned his connection to her to Harry, then that could only mean that he was trying to protect her. She was sure that Harry wouldn't have minded had he known, but something told her that the only people she could trust with the knowledge of her lineage was Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black.

It had occurred to her, that Sirius knew more about her lineage than he had let on so far. Unfortunately, she had no way of contacting him. She suspected that for the moment, he preferred it that way and that this may have had something to do with Draco-possibly that he didn't want Draco to know about his whereabouts. Of course, there was also the tiny possibility that her was protecting them both.

It had taken Sirius an incredibly long time to warm up to Draco and even then, he had seemed far too suspicious of him. He'd only ever let Draco pet him a few times and he rarely let Draco get that close to Genevieve. If he did, he made sure to be in between the two of them, ever watchful of the blond Slytherin's every move. There was no explanation for Sirius's overprotective manner.

This all caused a bit of a dilemma for her. If Sirius didn't want anybody to know, that had to include Draco, and she wasn't comfortable keeping secrets from Draco.

"You look a little lost, MacDuff," someone teased rudely, "forget where you're going? Or were you too busy daydreaming about Wood to notice you're going the wrong way?"

"What I'm think about is none of your business, Beckwith," she replied just as coolly, throwing the girl a look of disdain. Rosamund crossed her arms and smirked. "Don't you think you're a bit beneath him? I mean, you've hardly got anything to offer a man."

Genevieve scoffed. Was that really the best she could come up with? "And you do? You're the dimmest girl in our class and you have the nerve to try to insult me? You couldn't catch a man for anything. You're about as interesting as a pile of dragon dung and as attractive as a mountain troll."

"You filthy mudblood," Rosamund snarled loudly, sounding dangerously like a banshee. There were several audible gasps from around them and Genevieve glanced about the corridor. Almost every student in the corridor had stopped to watch them. The Gryffindors closest were staring at Rosamund in abject horror. One of their own had just called someone-another _Gryffindor_-a "mudblood".

Even Genevieve couldn't believe she'd sunk that low. The look in Rosamund's eye indicated she knew she had gone too far, but it was too late to back down now. "You're beneath me, MacDuff. You're a disgusting, second-rate witch-"

"What's this? Bullying other Gryffindors, Beckwith," came an amused voice with an edge to it that seemed to be noticeable only to Genevieve. It sounded almost murderous to her ears. There was Draco, pushing his way through the crowd followed closely by Crabbe and Parkinson. He had his usual arrogant smirk, but she noticed the way the muscle in his clenched jaw-and it _was_ clenched-pulsed. He was furious. He had heard. He practically strutted up to Rosamund and it didn't look as though the blonde girl knew quite what to expect. If it had been Genevieve, she would have turned tail and fled. "What's wrong? Not enough Hufflepuffs for you? No, wouldn't want to hurt your disgrace of a sister now would we? And how's your family," he pressed, stepping even closer to her, his smirk morphing into something almost evil as he spoke. He was enjoying this. "Your mother? How's she doing? Must be hard not being able to do magic as a pureblood. Those _squibs_ have it pretty hard, don't they, Beckwith?"

The collective gasp around them was deafening. Rosamund's already pale skin became ashen. It was as if she'd just witnessed someone being murdered. Pansy Parkinson was grinning gleefully up at her, overjoyed at the older girl's mortification. Draco's gaze shifted to Genevieve for a moment too brief for anyone else to comprehend and he clenched his jaw tighter. He pulled back suddenly and smirked again. "It must be so embarrassing for you. To have to pretend your family's not some fucked up little train-wreck. Riddled with half-bloods, blood-traitors, and squibs. _Disgraceful._"

"At least there's no mudbloods," she declared, trying to recover some small bit of her dignity. She looked close to crying. The three Slytherins surrounding her laughed amongst themselves and Draco went in for the kill. "Yes, because three out of four isn't quite losing, is it? But I'm sure when your sister marries that muggle she's shagging, you'll be one step closer to completing the full set."

Parkinson was cackling with joy when Rosamund bolted away from them. Draco let out a low chuckle of his own and the three strutted away. But not before Draco caught her eye and _winked_. Genevieve smiled back just the barest bit. The arrogant prat had been defending her. Openly. It made her heart swell with pride. He really did care about her.

She started to walk back toward her class when she noticed Hermione Granger standing not far away, watching her with open incredulity as she glanced after Draco. Hermione had seen it. And she seemed to be the only one to have realized just what exactly had happened. Genevieve looked away from her quickly and continued on her way. She was going to have to avoid Hermione at all costs. The girl was too smart for her own good and the last thing either she or Draco needed was Hermione figuring anything out.

Unfortunately, for her, Genevieve had forgotten how much Hermione enjoyed spending time in the library. They were bound to run into each other at some point. It had just before the end of term. Genevieve was busy looking through potions books, looking for any potions that might match up with the ones in the book Sirius had given her when she caught sight of Hermione loitering near the end of the shelf, watching her. The two stare at each other for a long while before Hermione finally approached her. Genevieve went back to replacing a book she had already read through, trying to mentally prepare herself for whatever the bushy-haired third year was about to say to her.

"I haven't told Harry and Ron what I saw that day in the hall." She turned back to look at Hermione, who looked just about as uncomfortable as she felt. Hermione's confession had not been something she had expected. "But whatever it is that's going on between you and Malfoy-"

"I've been tutoring him in potions since his first year," Genevieve replied. Her voice sounded clipped even to her own ears. There was a long pause. "Draco Malfoy does not go out of his way to help anyone, especially not muggle-borns." Genevieve could see clearly that something clicked in Hermione's mind. Her eyes widened as she stared up at the older girl. "I've never heard him call you _that word_."

"He calls every muggle-born that word," Genevieve dismissed, trying to seem as uninterested as possible, but her mind was in chaos. It took everything in her to keep from shaking. Hermione shook her head adamantly. "Not you. He never bullies you and he's had plenty of chances, Genevieve. You know I'm right. Why?"

"Why are you so interested," she asked, annoyed at being unable to shake her. "Why are the three of you so obsessed with Malfoy?"

"We aren't. We can't stand him." Genevieve smirked at that. "Hardly anybody can."

Silence settled between the two of them and Genevieve tried to ignore the way Hermione continued to stare at her as if she were some sort of puzzle she desperately wanted to solve. "I was going to tell you to be careful, but now..."

Genevieve turned to look at her again. It surprised her when Hermione was smiling in a way that implied she knew something Genevieve didn't. "I'll see you later, Genevieve."


	7. Chapter 6

_AN: I've revised the prologue, adding a scene with Draco, and also revised a bit of chapter one and three. If you've already read through the story, you should at least go back and read the prologue._

* * *

**Chapter 6: A Beginning Near an End**

_"Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's beautiful."_  
_-Milan Kundera_

Fifth year had been a disaster. Harry Potter had somehow gotten pulled into the Triwizard tournament. Draco had gone to the Yule ball with Pansy Parkinson and in the resulting fallout, they hadn't spoken for what seemed like years to Genevieve. And the worst happened. Cedric Diggory died. He had been killed by none other than Voldemort himself, Harry Potter swore. That was what finally brought Draco and Genevieve back to their senses. It also brought them even closer together and Genevieve eventually forgot how angry she was with Draco and how upsetting it had been to see him dance with Pansy.

There was a darkness brewing off in the distance. They could both feel it. And it was terrifying. It had once seemed as though nothing could harm them while they were safely hidden away at Hogwarts, but seeing Harry crying over Cedric's lifeless body had brought everyone to their senses. The danger was real and it was coming for them.

It hadn't been easy keeping this from her parents. Had her mother and father known, she wouldn't have been allowed to return to Hogwarts again. She'd spent most of summer holed up in her bedroom. She owled Draco daily. Hermione had owled her once. She hadn't hadn't said much in reply, only that she hadn't told her parents what was going on. She'd told Hermione to be careful. And then one day, a familiar, shaggy, black dog had appeared in her yard.

It was after dusk and the streetlights were already on. Her parents were busy watching television. Genevieve had watched Sirius transform with wide eyes. Time had stopped as the pair had stared at one another. Genevieve couldn't help but notice Sirius's grey eyes were so close in color to Draco's. She hadn't moved when Sirius brought his hands up to cup her face and said the last thing she could have ever guessed.

"You look so much like your mother."

"My mother," she whispered, watching as he sat down on a piece of wrought-iron patio furniture. She fell into a matching chair across from him. He smiled. "Persephone. Persephone Pendragon. She was..." he breathed in deeply, a sad smile on his face, "she was the love of my life."

"You're my father," she said slowly, "what happened?"

"Your mother was unlike any witch I'd ever met." There was a far off look in his eyes as he spoke. "She was truly special. Everyone loved her. Even my cousins, Narcissa and Bellatrix. They adored her. There was just something about her that made you fall in love with her instantly. Sides didn't matter when it came to her. I'm sure it bothered Narcissa and Bellatrix that she wouldn't choose what they considered the right side, but she was a pureblood and that was what mattered to them

"My mother loved her, I think, even if Persephone hadn't been a pure-blood, my mother would have loved her," he mused, chuckling, "I'm sure my mother thought she would be the one to bring me back into the family, make me see what the Black family knew to be right, but the opposite is what started to happen. She made everyone forget that they were on different sides, that they hated each other. And that's what killed her. She blurred the lines, like you do."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius looked at her, his grey eyes solemn as he spoke. "Your mother didn't take sides. She believed that all of us would come together. She believed that some of the death eaters would come to realize that blood status was not an issue. And she was right; some of them were beginning to understand. Narcissa Malfoy was one of them. And Bellatrix would do anything for Narcissa, which is why at first she tolerated your mother. They all summered together our fifth year. They never approved of her spending time with blood-traitors and muggle-borns. But they were coming around-at least your mother thought so.

"And then James and Lily were killed." His expression darkened and all happiness seemed to drain from his body. "Peter Pettigrew, betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. When I was sent to Azkaban, she disappeared."

"So, she could still be alive," Genevieve ventured hopefully, Sirius gave her a comforting smile and shook his head. "Your mother's past is...complicated at best. Nobody really understands where she came from, how she came to be at Hogwarts. But I think, what led to my imprisonment, broke her. And because of it, she left and she'll never be coming back."

"But how could she believe that you could do those things?"

"She knew I was innocent, but there was nothing she could do. I wouldn't have wanted her to try to help me. It was dangerous then. Bellatrix went mad when she disappeared. She claimed I had killed Persephone. I don't think she was ever able to admit to herself that it was Voldemort's fault. That he was responsible for what had happened. Narcissa took it just as hard." He looked up at the sky, toward the stars. "It's not surprising to me that you would befriend Draco Malfoy. It's something your mother would have done. She would be rooting for the two of you."

"He's not what everyone thinks he is," she defended. Her father gave her a knowing smile, "No, I don't believe he is."

They spent over an hour talking. Sirius told her about the Order of the Phoenix. While Genevieve wished to join she was aware of the conflict it would cause between herself and Draco. She told Sirius as much and Sirius admitted he wasn't too keen on the idea of her joining. "War is so much more than taking sides, Genevieve."

"What should I tell Draco?"

He grasped her gently by the shoulders. The look in his eyes spoke volumes. "Tell him everything."

The day she left for her sixth year, there was heavy weight on her chest. She listened as her mother and father bantered the entire way to the station. Her father had sandy hair that was just beginning to gray at the temples. Her mother's hair was similar in color, with blonde highlights throughout. They seemed older that day and Genevieve found that she was just now noticing their laugh lines, worn into their skin. They had lived a happy life together. She stared at her mother's worn, magenta jumper, noticed the frayed collar of her father's jean jacket. She listened intently to the familiar purr of the car engine. This was what was defined as normal. She didn't belong there; not anymore.

For the first time ever, her mother and father followed her onto platform nine and three quarters. The three of them stood and stared at the Hogwarts Express in silence until her mother finally spoke. "Is that the boy who has been writing you?"

Genevieve looked in the direction her mother indicated. Further down the platform was Draco. He was taller than last year, even. His black suit was perfectly tailored and immaculate. Both his parents were present. His mother looked regal as ever, her blonde hair pinned up in an intricate updo. Her black and green dressrobes every bit as expensive looking as Draco's suit. And then there was Lucius, with his long pale hair, sharp cold eyes, and that black lacquered cane standing proudly as he watched Narcissa fuss over Draco in a manner that was much more motherly than she would have expected.

Genevieve looked up at her mother, a disappointed frown on her face. "You've been reading my mail?"

"How else am I supposed to know what goes on while you're at school," her mother defended, not in the least bit ashamed. "I worry about you."

"You know then," Genevieve asked quietly, "about...about the war?"

She felt her father squeeze her shoulder. "We know."

Genevieve looked back toward Draco. "I don't know what will happen."

Her father squeezed her shoulder again and she felt tears well in her eyes. "I'm scared."

It took her a moment to realize that Lucius Malfoy was staring at her, his gaze critical. He gestured toward her with his cane and Genevieve looked away. She turned to her parents, then. The three stood in silence again, simply staring. Her mother tried to smile. "It'll be okay. You'll make it through."

"Will you be okay," she asked them. They enveloped her in a hug. It was all the answer she needed. She stepped away from them and put a hand on her trolley. They waved at her once before passing back through the barrier. She stared after them, the atmosphere on the platform just as subdued as her emotions. She felt unusually numb at the moment. There was a faint clicking sound on the floor. She glanced down out of the corner of her eye, unsurprised to find a shaggy, black dog sitting beside her.

"I knew you'd come," she said quietly, "it's started, hasn't it?"

Genevieve knew Sirius wouldn't answer. He merely looked up at her. She reached down and rubbed him behind the ears. "The Malfoys are staring."

And they were. Lucius Malfoy was sneering at her in disgust. Narcissa was a mask of indifference. She let out a long sigh, gripped her trolley tighter and started in their direction, ready to pass them without acknowledging their presence. Sirius kept pace beside her, panting. It was hard not to turn and meet Lucius Malfoy's unyielding stare, but she managed, her head held high. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. She didn't have to look to know that Draco was probably staring at the ground, ashamed.

She turned and hugged Sirius before boarding. "I promise, I'll write. Be careful."

Genevieve slid into the nearest open compartment and put her trunk away. It didn't take long for her to figure out nobody else grasped the severity of the situation when the other students boarded the train and they seemed to be in much higher spirits. All they wanted to do was gossip about Harry. He had been attacked by dementors, there had even been a trial. Everyone was calling him and Dumbledore liars. But she knew better. Harry was right. He was in the thick of it. He, Ron, and Hermione knew just like she did. And she knew because of Draco. It was going to get worse. People were going to start dying soon.

Her friends sensed her solemn mood and left her to her own thoughts. Katie seemed the most perceptive, but she didn't push. She knew not to press Genevieve about things. Her feelings of foreboding became clear once they arrived at Hogwarts and Delores Umbridge made her speech.

Somehow, the squat woman managed to make looking like a delicate pastry utterly sinister. It put Genevieve off cotton candy for a while. Hermione looked uneasy, she could see. It only confirmed her suspicions. It wasn't until Defense Against the Dark Arts that she really came to understand just how dire the situation at Hogwarts was becoming. The school wouldn't be safe for much longer and the students would be absolutely defenseless.

Genevieve wouldn't outwardly rebel. She wouldn't fraternize with anyone intent on rebelling. They would be discovered and the punishment would be severe. It would be best for her to learn to defend herself in secret, alone. Three weeks after the start of Fall term, Genevieve approached Draco with her proposition. They were standing beside Black Lake.

"I want you to duel me and I want you to use the Dark Arts when you do." Draco looked incredulous at first. Then his expression slowly melted into outrage. "Vivvy, you can't be serious! There is no bloody way I'm going to try to hit you with a cruciatus or-"

"Then I won't know how to defend myself and I'll die," she argued, cutting him off, "along with the muggles, the half-bloods, the blood-traitors, and anyone else who won't join the death eaters."

Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat. "If we're caught..."

"I'll take full responsibility." She assured him. "I know the risk I'm taking and I'll accept the consequences without hesitation."

Draco agreed hesitantly, making it clear that he was displeased with their new arrangement.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione formed Dumbledore's Army, Genevieve declined their offer to join. Harry became suspicious immediately. "Why not?"

"I would prefer not to get in trouble with Umbridge, Harry. I'm a muggle-born. Things would go badly for me. I'm not willing to take that risk." This answer had not been enough for him. His green eyes had hardened dramatically. "Why is it, I always get the feeling you're hiding something from me?"

"Why is it you think anything and everything having to do with anyone is your business," she shot back. They were the only four in the common room. Ron looked just as determined as Harry and Hermione looked conflicted. Harry stared at her for a long time. "What is it you know?"

"What is it you know," she threw back at him. "You know more than I do, Harry. I'm just a muggle-born witch, trying to survive. You're the boy who lived. You'll make it through."

She started to walk away then when he stopped her, pulling her to face him roughly. "How is it you know Sirius Black?"

She yanked her arm free of his grip and scowled. "Why are you asking me? Why don't you ask him if you're so sure we're connected?"

"I have," he admitted, his frustration growing, "he says he's never heard of you."

"There you have it," she replied evenly. It was becoming far too easy for her to lie. "He sent you something over a year ago. What was it?"

"It was a package from my father, you nosy git," she snarled, her temper getting the better of her. She was dangerously close to screaming. "Would you like me to go and get the photograph of him and my mother that came with it? Perhaps, you'd like to read the letters they've sent me this term as well? My mother bought a new toaster and my father finally got around to fixing the garbage disposal. Our neighbors got a new dog and my mother swears that they're letting it piss all over her prize-winning dogwood tree. Do you need to go through my trunk? Would you like to know what color knickers I'm wearing today? Perhaps you'd be interested to know I had some strudel at evening feast. I'll have my mother owl you a copy of my medical records some time within the week!"

"This isn't a game, Genevieve," he insisted, and she felt herself grow cold. "No, it's just my life." She didn't wait for a reply. "Did it ever enter your thick head that if any of you get caught, the ministry will forever be mucking about in your lives? You know how long this will last-what's coming. It could go on for years. I don't want to be in the thick of it unless I'm forced to." She raced up the stairs to her dormitory.

Classes were a bore. Her mind was too preoccupied with her dueling sessions with Draco. They met once a week in secret in the Forbidden forest during their free periods. Soon, they were meeting every other day to spend time together. She'd managed to talk Draco into doing whatever it was Umbridge asked of him. Even if it meant putting her in danger. She didn't want Umbridge to become suspicious of him.

They had finished a rather heated dueling session and were seated at the foot of a tree when Genevieve asked, "So, how are things with Parkinson?"

"We're not together." Genevieve snorted. "She seems to think so."

"She's mistaken." He looked far from pleased by their conversation. It was the third time they'd fought over his involvement with Pansy in the past two weeks. "Are we really going to fight about this again?"

"Who said we were fighting," she asked, aware of the animosity in her voice. She couldn't help it. She absolutely hated Pansy. She hated Pansy Parkinson more than any other student at Hogwarts. The girl rubbed her wrong in so many ways.

"She's not that bad."

"Not that bad," Genevieve cried, indignant and full of anger-anger she wasn't sure she knew the source of," that girl is a disgusting, foul little troll! The way she hangs of you is just embarrassing! Acting as if the two of you are so in love. It makes me sick! I hate her!"

"You don't even know her," Draco argued back, his own anger flaring. Genevieve crossed her arms and yelled back, "I don't want to! I don't want to know anything about her. She's a cockroach! Pond scum! Dragon dung!"

There was no reason for her to be so angry at him. He could do what he wanted with whomever he wanted. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't stop it. The more she thought about it, the more she pictured Pansy draped all over him as if she belonged there, the more her insides twisted and ached. And the more pain she felt, the angrier she became. It wasn't right. It was all wrong. Pansy and Draco were wrong. They made her whole body burn with unmitigated rage.

She could feel her whole body heave with every labored breath she took. Draco looked just as furious, his eyes were blazing as he glowered at her. "What? Am I just supposed to let you tell me what to do? Who to talk to, what to think? Who to snog-"

"_You shouldn't be snogging anybody_," she screeched, as everything exploded into red and her body began to pulse violently along with her heart. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you," he screamed back, charging at her like an angry bull, "why are you acting like I have to do anything you say?"

She wanted to slap him and rip out his hair. She wanted to pummel him until he shut up. She wanted to scream at him to go back to the castle and never speak to her again. "Sod off, Draco," she seethed at him, turning on her heel and practically running from him. "Son of a-Genevieve MacDuff, get your arse back here!"

She really did run then. She ran as fast as she could into the castle; the cold night air had burned her lungs and made her muscles stiff. They were already becoming sore, but she pushed on. Her heart was still racing when she stopped. Somehow, she'd ended up in the Astronomy tower surrounded by dusty crates of telescopes that weren't likely to be used any time soon.

The frigid air burned the exposed skin of her legs and she focused on it. It helped her to forget what she was feeling. She slipped her shoes off to rub her feet. They hurt from running. Those had not been the correct shoes to wear when running away from your best friend after having a fight. She hauled herself up on a crate and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her body. She was freezing now that most of her anger had dissipated and all that was left was embarrassment and an extreme sense of loss.

But what was she losing? While this was by far their worst fight to date, she was sure they would have more. They always fought now. But it never felt like they were truly angry with one another. It was as if they were angry with themselves and some other emotion they couldn't identify. At least, Genevieve couldn't.

Why did it matter that he snogged anyone? Of all the things in the world to be cross about, why was this the one thing that drove her mad? Why was it always Draco that pushed her off-balance with his actions? She wiped at her eye with her shoulder and sniffed; it caused her whole body to convulse violently. Did she care too much? Perhaps, she did. She didn't care about any of her other friends in this way. Would she upset if Katie got her heart broken? Yes, but she wouldn't have had a problem with Katie falling in love in the first place. She would have been happy for her. So, why wouldn't she be happy for Draco? Why did the idea of him being happy with some perfect, pureblooded witch make her absolutely miserable? Why did it lead her to believe that she would be absolutely inconsolable if he ever fell in love with anyone? She had to be supportive of him. It was her job as his best friend, but she couldn't find it in her heart to approve of him and any other girl together..._any other girl_.

The cold truth of it slammed into her like a the gusts of wind that assaulted the Astronomy Tower. She, Genevieve MacDuff, liked her best friend, Draco Malfoy. And it was possible that she had for quite some time. It made her feel even worse. How thick could she be? And why did it have to be him? She fought the urge to cry harder when she realized why it was she had fallen for him. He protected her. He listened to her. He cared about her and he was the first person at Hogwarts who had.

They had enough problems in their own lives separately without her complicating things needlessly. This had to stop. And it had to stop now. She couldn't do this. Not now. Things were about to get worse in the wizarding world and she was mucking things up royally. She had to make it go away.

She wiped her eyes and began to pull on her shoes and socks, silently cursing herself as the tears continued to fall. She wiped at them again with shaky hands and numbed fingers. She had to get it under control.

"Vivvy?" That one concerned yet cautious voice made her feel like breaking down all over again. She choked on a sob as she sniffled and answered back, refusing to look up. "Please, Draco, I need to be alone right now. Just please, leave!"

"Vivvy..."

"Leave," she cried out, her voice strangled, "I can't talk to you right now." Genevieve buried her face in her arms and began to shake again. The tears were streaming now; there was no stopping them. "Please, just go away," she whispered to herself. She flinched when she felt his hands, colder than ice, gently cradle her face, pulling her up to meet his gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded softly, sounding oddly muted considering the tension that surrounded them. "You know I hate it when you cry."

In that moment, it didn't matter to her what happened. It didn't matter if she had him in her life or not. Anything was better than feeling the way she felt at that exact moment and she needed that feeling to end. She yanked away from him, ripping his hands from her face. "That's just it, Draco! Stop it, stop all of it-just stop!"

Even in her hysterics she could almost pinpoint the exact moment he began to shut down. His eyes became hard like glass and his spine became rigid as his entire body tensed, towering over in a way that implied his pride would not be wounded. But she wouldn't be cowed by his suddenly cold demeanor.

"I need you to just stop. I need you to quit caring, I need you to call me a "mudblood" like you do everyone else; I need you to hate me." She paced back and forth, aware of his piercing gaze as he watched her stalk back and forth with a neutral expression. "I need you to just..."

She stopped her pacing abruptly and just stood there with her back to him. There was nothing but silence as she stood there. Genevieve wanted to shake her head, scream-do anything-but what good would it do? She would still be in this position. She was just trapped. "I just need...you."

When Draco took hold of her from behind, she was too exhausted to pull away. Draco pulled her around to face him and her violet eyes looked straight into his silvery ones. It happened so quickly she had no time to register that they were suddenly hurtling toward one another-or more precisely, that he was nearing her. All she was capable of understanding was the gentle pressure of his lips as they brushed against hers. He was kissing her. And it was the most overwhelming sensation she had ever experienced. Such a simple, innocent kiss and she had never felt anything so powerful in her young life. There were no fireworks, he body didn't burn, and she didn't go weak in the knees. All she could focus on was that one singular sensation and it somehow made everything feel real.

Just as he began to pull away, Genevieve reached up with one hand and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding him in place. She felt his finger slide through her hair and then she was lost. It was no longer a singular kiss then and she hesitated for only a moment when her legs hit one of the telescope crates. Trying hard not to break away from him, Genevieve pulled herself up onto the crate and curled one arm around his neck and gripped the starched collar of his shirt in her other hand, pulling him as far into her as she could. Would he ever be close enough? His hands couldn't travel over her body fast enough. Though it was more than what she had had of him mere minutes ago, it wasn't nearly enough. She had thought it would be, but if it ended...

Genevieve let out a small cry of protest when his lips left hers and it quickly turned into a groan when they found her neck. She buried her hand in his hair as she braced herself on the crate with her other hand. His lips were on hers once more-and then they were gone. As her vision slowly came back into focus and her ragged breathing began to even out, she watched him warily. The look in his eyes could only be described as crazed. It bordered on mad, really.

It occurred to her that they both must look an absolute sight-he, with his hair sticking up at all odd angles, clothing uncharacteristically wrinkled beyond explanation and her, eyes widened comically with her hand suspended in the air as it grasped at nothing. He let out one long breath and held his hand out to her. She took it without a moment's hesitation, letting him help her down from the crate. He stared at their hands and then looked back up at her with an irritated expression on his face.

"Can you tell me why it took three bloody years for that to happen," he snapped, "can you explain to me why it took the smartest witch in school three years to figure out that she wanted to snog me?"

Now she knew why there had been no fireworks. They weren't supposed to go off until the finale. "Oh, so that's what that was? Just a snog? You are unbelievable, Malfoy-"

"Come off it, MacDuff, you're not as thickheaded as you're acting and you know it," he argued back, taking a step up to her. She had to tilt her head back to glare at him. "Why can't you just admit it? You like me! Say it. I want to hear you say it!"

"I'll say no such thing! You just want to throw it back in my face like the completely arrogant tosser you are!"

"I like you, you idiot," he nearly yelled at her, his exasperation was all too clear. "I _like you_, Vivvy. I've liked you since my second year! I've wanted to snog you since third! And I started wanting to do a hell of a lot more than snog you not long after that!" He gripped her by her upper arms and shook her lightly. "So, say it! I need to hear you say it!"

Genevieve gazed up at him, feeling as breathless as she sounded. "I like you, too." And that was all it took for him to kiss her again.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Learning to Rebuild**

_"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment."_  
_-Sarah Dessen "The Truth About Forever"_

Genevieve was not a stupid girl. She had known the moment she had discovered the depths of her feelings for Draco that it would complicate everything. But nothing could prepare her for just how true this was or how much harder it would make it for her to watch him pass her in the halls without so much as a passing glance shared between them. Time spent in the great hall was absolute agony. When had watching Draco drink from a goblet become so voyeuristic? It made her heart rate increase as she thought about his lips on her in not so innocent places. And she could swear everyone knew.

Draco always knew. There wasn't a meal that passed by that she didn't need to excuse herself for fear of fainting. The sensations created by her imagination alone were just too much for a sixteen year old girl to handle. And every time she would hurry out of the great hall, he would be waiting for her in some darkened corner of the castle where he would pull her into him and that was it. She was finished. She could die happy. Life was absolute bliss.

Their encounters were always frenzied at first. But as the weeks passed, they became less hurried. Their kisses became less frantic and more languid, there were hushed words shared between them meant for no one else. It wasn't just a quick snog and run anymore, but Genevieve knew she had never been just a snog to him. She was not a stupid girl. This was Draco Malfoy and there was no one who knew him better than she did. Draco was serious about her in a way that he was seldom serious about anything.

To all the world, it always appeared as though he was playing a game; he was the rook, knight, bishop, and queen all rolled into one while everyone else was merely a pawn. He knew every single move before the game had truly begun. It was one of the first things Genevieve had ever realized about him. But with her, it was different. Rarely, was he anything but careful with her. He was always open. Never in all her life had she met someone whose expressions read so clearly on their face as Draco's did. And she was the only one who ever saw him that way.

They were currently pushed flush against each other in a cramped broom closet, breathing heavily. It was evening feast. They'd both left early and had spent almost an hour snogging each other senseless.

"Merlin, Draco, how many hands do you have," she moaned breathlessly. They both staggered back against the wall and froze when several mops, brooms, and buckets crashed about them. They pulled apart reluctantly and Draco held up his wand to give them some light. He was having trouble keeping his eyes above her neckline. "You don't think anybody heard, do you?"

She rubbed his side soothingly as she looked around her. Draco's hair was mussed beyond repair and it was hard to keep from snogging him agains when he looked so disheveled. "I hope not. Can you imagine the trouble we'd be in if Umbridge caught us?"

He winced, frowning. "I've seen her handiwork. That would be more than horrible."

She nodded in agreement as she smoothed out her sweater and ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Draco looked disappointed. "Just five more minutes, Vivvy."

She shot him a reproving look. "Draco, I have to go. I may study a lot, but soon everyone's going to get suspicious."

"Tell them the truth," he said with a shrug. She shot him yet another look. "Just tell them I'm busy snogging you in broom closets and empty classrooms? Nobody would believe me."

"Exactly," he exclaimed with a smug smirk. Genevieve rolled her eyes as she reached up to straighten his hair, ignoring the mischievous look in his eyes. They flashed with something that Genevieve knew firsthand was not good for her sanity. "I'm sure my housemates would love that."

"Mine too," he replied easily, his grin widening. "which is why I told them before I came up here."

Genevieve's hand froze and then, before either of them could register what was happening, his left cheek and the palm of her right hand were stinging. "What the bloody hell, Draco?" She didn't sound near as upset as the slap implied. He rubbed his reddened cheek and tried not to frown. "They took it much better than you're taking it," he grumbled and she tried not to stamp her feet in exasperation when his lower lip jutted out in a perfect pout. "Honestly, Vivvy, do you really think that they would believe me?"

She didn't answer back and he didn't wait for her to. "Honestly, you think any of them would believe I'd have a chance with you? You're not exactly attainable by Hogwarts standards."

"That's the sweetest thing you've said to me so far this week," she cooed and kissed his cheek. Draco scowled, growling deep in his throat. It took a lot in him to admit that. It was a real hit to his pride to have to admit that most of the school- Slytherin house included- considered her above him. It was a real hit to have to admit he was beneath anybody. It left a foul taste in his mouth. But it made her happy. At least she'd made that noise at him she made whenever he'd done or said something she liked so much. And that always meant more snogging.

Draco moaned when her fingers ran the length of his chest and disappeared from view. And she thought he had more than two hands? Blimey, she was going to kill him. "I thought you had to get back," he moaned against her lips, relishing the way she pulled at his hair. She giggled against his lips. "I do."

"You're about to lose that sweater if you don't behave," he warned and she smirked up at him. "Meet me in the library tomorrow? We'll study some spells and enchantments from the spellbook. I need to do some actual studying soon. N.E.W.T.s are coming up and I'm so behind."

"I wouldn't worry, you're brilliant," he assured her between kisses. "I doubt you have to do any studying. You just know things."

"Yes, but I think we're falling behind in dueling." He smirked proudly down at her. "We've been busy."

"And while I enjoy our...dalliances, we really must get back on track. Snogging is not going to keep the world from descending into chaos."

He rolled his eyes and straightened his tie, watching as she picked some lint off her sweater. "We're allowed to act like teenagers, Vivvy. A little snogging-"

"Three to four times a day? Sometimes, five?"

"It's healthy. We're expressing ourselves."

"In broom closets."

"I could always sneak you into my dormitory," he teased, running his fingers through her hair as he leaned over her casually. Genevieve tried hard to seem as though she weren't affected, fully aware that he could see right through her. She pushed him away from her and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, Draco, sometimes."

She combed through her hair and pushed open the door. He stumbled out behind her, still wrestling with his tie. Genevieve batted his hands away and began to straighten it for him. "So, see you tomorrow in the library? Free period?"

"Of course, love," he agreed, kissing her soundly one last time. "Goodnight, Vivvy. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Draco, have a goodnight," she waved as she watched him go. She practically floated all the way to the common room. Someone stood up from the couch near the fireplace and she stopped when she realized it was Katie. "You're back early."

"I went to the library to study with you," Katie responded, not returning her friend's smile, "you weren't there." Genevieve didn't know what to say. This was the first time anybody had confronted her. Katie didn't look angry. She looked concerned. "You're not doing anything that's going to get you in trouble with Umbridge are you? You've seen what she's done to other students. If she catches you-"

"I was snogging Draco Malfoy in a broom closet," Genevieve told her, her eyes almost widening as she realized what she had just blurted out. Katie blinked at her. They stared at each other for a long while before Katie burst into uncontrollable laughter. Genevieve smiled at her, amused at her reaction. "He's really quite good."

"Fine, don't tell me," Katie laughed and rolled her eyes as they both collapsed on the couch. "How about you help me with my DADA essay. I have no idea what to write other than that I find it to be a complete and utter waste of brain cells."

"Ugh, that took me longer to write than my potions essay and you know how Snape is about essays," Genevieve sighed. "Could you help me with transfiguration? I can't quite get down changing an iguana into a pot of begonias."

"I can try to help you, but I've not been doing so well on that lesson either."

"Bullocks," she grumbled. "This year is killing me. Can you imagine how horrible next year will be? It'll be an absolute nightmare." They both gathered up their books and Katie looked over at her. "Do you think McGonagall would let us borrow her classroom?"

"I don't doubt it." Katie turned at the portrait hole and gave her friend a teasing look. "Would you really snog Malfoy?"

Genevieve grinned back and gave Katie a playful shove out of the common room. "Of course, you've seen how fit he is!"

They both dissolved in a fit of giggles. "He is really handsome," Katie giggled, "I'd say he's the best looking bloke in fifth year. Definitely the best in school now that Diggory's-"

They both broke off and Katie cleared her throat, ashamed. "I actually forgot he was gone for a moment."

"Sometimes, it's okay to forget." Genevieve comforted her, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. "You know, my parents don't want me coming home this Christmas. They're worried something bad will happen to me if I do. That the death eaters-" She didn't know what else to say. "They never talk about magic and now...Now it's all they talk about."

"So you're staying here, then?"

"I don't know. I might go home anyway. If something does happen. I'd like to see them one last time." She thought off her mother, bustling about the kitchen making sugar cookies while she and her father watched "It's a Wonderful Life" and strung popcorn to hang on the Christmas tree. They always waited until she was home to decorate the tree. "I keep thinking maybe it's all just a dream and we'll all be able to just continue on like we did for the last four years..."

"Do you really think it will be that bad?"

"No, I think it will be worse," she said, looking up at the castle walls surrounding them. "I don't think there's really anything that will prepare us for this, but there's not anything we can do either."

"Where do you think we'll be when it happens?"

"Hopefully, far away from here."

Genevieve was far from Hogwarts when the war reached her. She was at King's Cross Station waiting for her parents and they were unusually late-later than she ever remembered them being for a single function in their lives. In fact, they considered themselves late when they arrived five minutes early. But she didn't know what to do. She didn't know who to turn to for help. Who did she ask? _What_ did she ask? She stood motionless on the platform, her gaze unfocused, the noise around her a dull roar. She didn't jump when a hand carefully perched on her shoulder. "Genevieve?"

Of course it would be Hermione. Genevieve didn't move; she only acknowledged the younger girl's presence by saying, "My parents are late. They're never late for anything."

She tightened her hold on her wand and swallowed thickly. "Could I possibly trouble you for some muggle money for a cab?"

"Of course," Hermione said quietly, "would you like me to come with you?"

Genevieve shook her head. "I'd rather go it alone first. I don't-I'm not ready."

She couldn't remember getting in the cab or the ride home. But she could recall the exact moment her home came into view. The front seemed devoid of life. There was nothing that gave the impression that there was life. She asked the driver to wait and opened the front gate. It felt unnaturally cold the moment she stepped onto the front lawn and she resisted the urge to hug herself for warmth. Opening her own front door had never seemed like such a daunting task.

She set her hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door pushed open, with little fuss, swinging off-kilter on its hinges. It was not a comforting sight. The house was dark and eerily silent. Nothing was out of place, but there was a density to the atmosphere that was unnerving. She pulled out her wand. She may not be allowed to practice magic outside of school, but that wasn't going to stop her from trying to protect herself should the need arise.

She hastily flipped on the lights and looked around. Everything looked as it always had. The pictures on the wall were all in their correct places. The only thing that was unusual was the pile of unopened mail by the front door. Her mother and father were always up to date when it came to the post. She ventured further in to the house and turned toward the right, gazing into the open archway of the living room. Again, nothing was out of place. But there were no Christmas decorations up. The mantle of the fireplace was usually covered in Christmas cards, garland, and stockings. It was bare and it looked as though the hearth hadn't been lit for at least a week.

She left the living room and double back into the entry way, toward the dining room, slowly coming around the wall that jutted out and froze. It looked so normal. She didn't understand why she hadn't been able to smell the decay. It was overpowering. They had been sitting down to breakfast. Her father had the paper open; it was laying over his plate, the corner of one page upturned against the side of his half finished mug of coffee. His eyes were open, but they looked empty, glassy. There were flies covering the plate of toast to his right. He was wearing a dark green sweater that her mother had gotten him for Christmas the year before.

Her mother was laying on the floor, halfway through the doorway that separated the kitchen from the dining room. She was lying on her stomach. Neither one looked as if they'd been surprised. They'd hadn't seen it coming and Genevieve was thankful for that, but she couldn't seem to move her eyes from the scene before her. Wasn't she supposed to be crying? Screaming? Hysterical? She backed up against the wall and stood motionless.

It was a dream, wasn't it? This was a nightmare and her subconscious had managed to realize how absurd this all was. But then why did it feel so real? Why did everything seem so normal, so ordinary and mundane? Shouldn't there be some blaringly obvious detail that alerted her to the fact that it was indeed her imagination? Like some sort of talking animal? Or a parade that would suddenly start up in the living room. If either instance one is going to happen, now would be the time, she thought hopefully.

"Get up, get up, get up," she chanted in a whisper, "Get up, get up, get up. Please, just get up."

And that was how Sirius found her, pushed up against the wall opposite her dead parents and gripping her wand so tightly in both hands she was close to snapping it. He crouched beside her. "Genevieve."

"They won't get up," she said quietly, her voice much too even for his liking. "But you can."

Slowly, he helped her to stand. She don't move any further. "They haven't written me in over a week. I thought it was because they knew I was studying so hard for my..." she broke off then and covered her mouth with her hands. "How-why-"

"Come on, you can't stay here any longer," he told her, turning her back toward the living room. He put both hands on her shoulders, urging her to look up at him. "I need you to go upstairs and pack all you can as quickly as you can."

She nodded up at him and looked toward the living room, only barely surprised at seeing Professor Lupin, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and two other wizards standing in the living room. They were all staring at her in various degrees of shock and pity. It didn't escape her notice just how shocked Harry looked.

She bypassed all over them; feeling as though she weren't at all in control of her body as she walked toward the hallway that led to the second floor of what had once been her home. She heard Sirius tell Hermione to go with her. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Genvieve turned to the first door on the right. The door was open and Hermione gasped behind her. "Sirius!"

There was a clambering as several pairs of feet thundered up the stairs while Genevieve stumbled into her bedroom. It was in shambles. The posters above her bed had been ripped from the wall and the drawers of her dresser and desk and been pulled out and their contents strewn across the floor. What clothes she had left behind had been torn from her closet, littering every corner of the room. Her window had been left open.

"Where are the letters you've been receiving for the past three years?"

"I burn them after I read them," she responded woodenly. The only other person who read them was my mother."

"And when you wrote home, what did you write about?"

She shrugged helplessly as she picked up a shirt that had been ripped to shreds. "My studies. Sometimes I wrote about what I read in The Daily Prophet. I didn't want to scare them with what was going on. I never told them about you or..." Draco. She didn't need to say his name for Sirius to get her meaning.

"We need to be leaving," Professor Lupin said from somewhere behind them. Genevieve felt herself begin to shake her head. "But I have nowhere else to go."

Sirius took her hand and squeezed it. "Yes, you do."

She looked to her right when Hermione took her other hand. "It'll be okay, Genevieve. I know right now it isn't, but it will be someday soon."

"I wish-" she stopped herself. I wish Draco was here, she thought forlornly. They led her down the stairs and out of the house. The two wizards she hadn't recognized stayed behind and Sirius apparated her and himself to twelve Grimmauld Place.

"Sirius, I know what's happened to her is terrible and she does need help, but do you think it's wise to bring her here," Harry ventured. Hermione turned to him with an outraged expression on her face. He ignored her. "I mean, this is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix-"

"She won't be staying here long, Harry," Sirius said curtly, causing Harry to halt in his steps. Sirius had never been so cold toward him before. "Now, I should like a word with Genevieve, if you'll excuse us."

He pulled her into the kitchen and shut the door. He gestured for her to sit down at the table and sat across from her. "Harry's correct, you can't stay here. I don't think anyone should know your connection to me. These are dangerous times and I couldn't bear it if something were to ever happen to you the way it did your mother. I'm going to have Remus take you to Diagon Alley. From there, I want you to go to Gringott's and enter your vault. There, I want you to take what you need. You will meet Remus outside Gringott's, buy what you can in the alley and then Remus will take you to look for a flat. Once you find one, I want you to stay there. Don't go out by yourself. I'll have Hermione come to see you every day to make sure you're alright. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said. He patted her on the back and stood. "I'll go and have a word with Remus."

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to give her a reassuring smile. "Everything will work out. I promise, nothing will happen to you."

She waited patiently and studied her surroundings. Sirius's home was very gloomy. She jumped when there was a loud crack and an old, decrepit house elf appeared before her. "Would Mistress Black like for Kreacher to make her some tea?"

Genevieve's eyes widened and she nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you, Kreacher. How did you know-"

"Kreacher knows many things," the house elf wheezed out, "yes, Kreacher knows more than he lets on. Kreacher has looked forward to this day for a very long time, he has. Knew it would come. Kreacher is very pleased to be serving Mistress Black."

He placed a cup of tea before her and watched her drink from it. "Is the tea to my Mistress's liking?"

"It's very good, Kreacher, thank you. Might I trouble you for some more?"

"So polite! Just like her mother. Always so polite," Kreacher exclaimed, "Lovely, lovely girl. Yes, I shall get you anything you require. Perhaps you are hungry? Should creature make you something to eat?"

"If it's no trouble," she said with a smile, "Thank you, again, Kreacher."

"So polite, so polite," he crowed once again as he hurried about the kitchen. "Wonderful, wonderful Mistress. Oh, how happy it makes Kreacher!"

He brought her another cup of tea and several muffins and stood by patiently, watching her as she took her first bite. "Oh, these are grand, Kreacher. Better than the muffins at Hogwarts!"

"I am happy you like them, Mistress," he said with a bow, and Genevieve couldn't help but smile. "Kreacher, if I asked something of you, something important, could you do it for me without anyone else knowing?"

"But of course, Mistress Black. Kreacher would do anything you ask of him. Anything!"

She took a sip from her tea cup and lowered her voice. "I should like to send a message to a dear friend of mine and I should like it if you would be sure to deliver it to my friend and no one else. It's very important that no one else know."

"Yes, yes, Mistress. Kreacher understands! He will tell no other soul!" He came closer, his hands clasped. She smiled down at him. "Oh, thank you so much. Could you please, please go to Malfoy Manor and tell Draco Malfoy that something awful has happened, but I'm okay and I will owl him as soon as I am safe. No one else must get this message but Draco. It is of the utmost importance that nobody but Draco get this message."

"Yes, Mistress, I shall deliver your message to Master Malfoy and nobody else. I promise on the noble and most ancient house of Black that only Master Malfoy will get this message."

"Thank you, Kreacher, thank you so much."

Kreacher apparated instantly and Genevieve sighed in relief. Not long after, Sirius and Professor Lupin entered the kitchen. "Are you ready to go, Genevieve," Sirius asked gently. Genevieve finished off her tea and nodded. Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I see you've met Kreacher. I hope he wasn't too terrible."

"Oh, he was wonderful. I've never met a house elf before, but he was really nice."

"I doubt that," Sirius mumbled darkly as he gestured for her to follow Professor Lupin. Once she said her goodbyes to Sirius, she followed Professor Lupin outside. "Ready?"

She took his hand and nodded. With a crack, they were in Diagon Alley. He dropped her hand and they pair headed toward Gringott's in silence. Once inside, Professor Lupin led her to one of the goblins who looked down at her with a less than friendly expression. "Yes?"

She pulled a chain out from the neck of her sweater, unclasping it from around her neck. She held it out to the goblin and he took it from her. "I should like to enter my vault."

"Ahh, Miss Black," the goblin said in a low voice, "Follow me."

Professor Lupin patted her shoulder. If he was surprised by the surname with which the goblin addressed her, he didn't show it. "I'll be waiting for you at Fortescue's. Take your time."

Neither one noticed Narcissa Malfoy, who stood not far away. She had heard everything.

* * *

**Sorry for the not updating sooner. It's been an eventful month or so. The holidays kind of took over for a while, then the flu made everybody in the house sick besides me and guess who got to play the part of nurse? Several doctors appointments, ER visits for unrelated incidents, and family functions later, I was finally able to edit this chapter. The next chapter is already written, but needs to be edited. I edit the previous chapter once I start the next chapter or even finish it. I like having one extra chapter in case I have to take a long absence-which I will this spring, when I have my second son (I'm so excited). Once it gets to be around that time, I'll try to have several chapters finished and ready to be posted.**

**Again, sorry for the long wait, I hope you like this chapter. Please review. Negative or positive, I love my feedback.**


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